The Journal
by MsEm
Summary: His wife's journal. He shouldn't read it, but he can't help himself.
1. Castle Walls

**Chapter song: Castle Walls by Christina Aguilera (m2 dubstep remix- the original sucks)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

A journal- _his wife's_ journal.

He shouldn't read it, but he can't help himself.

_Monday, March 7__th__, 2011_

_I started seeing a therapist 2 weeks ago. She says I'm depressed and started me on antidepressants. I can't say I'm surprised._

He is. He didn't even know she was seeing a therapist.

_Today she gave me this journal to write my thoughts into, and things I want to say, but keep to myself, or just anything that happened in the day. She also requested that I write at least one happy moment I had that day in each entry. _

_So, here goes nothing._

_Edward. Since I met him, my life has revolved around him. Then we had our son, Seth, and they both became my world. After almost 20 years of marriage, I feel like I don't even know him anymore. Or myself, but I'm hoping to fix this. _

_Edward has to work late- again, grading papers. He used to bring them home to grade just so he could spend time with us. When did that change?_

Years ago, he answers to himself.

_Happy moment: Hope. I felt it today._

He scans through more dates, more of her thoughts. Each page he reads is like one more weight added to his chest.

She questions his fidelity.

No. She doesn't question it. She knew. She knew and she doesn't care.

Out of irrational anger, he starts thinking, and almost believing, that she is solely the one to blame for his affair and her depression. It's her fault. She stopped talking to him, touching him, making an effort. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't just her. He knew he didn't make half the effort she had when they started drifting apart. He knew his anger was mostly because he just wanted her to _fight_ for them, for their marriage. But she knew, and she didn't. She didn't fight at all. So his anger outweighed what he knew was the truth.

That is, until he continued reading.

_Tuesday, May 3__rd__, 2011_

_My therapist says I should confront Edward of his infidelity. I can't. I'm not ready for that just yet. I know that if his indiscretions are confirmed, it would kill what's left of me._

_Happy moment: I got out of bed._

All of the anger he felt before, left as fast as it came.

He feels sick. He's killing her. He's not sure if he wants to continue reading.

But he does.

_Saturday, May 28__th__, 2011_

_It's been a few days since I've written in this. Thursday was a bad day. If Seth hadn't come home early on his last day of school, I would have swallowed the whole bottle of sleeping pills. I had them in my mouth when I heard him come through the front door. _

_Happy moment: Seth graduated today! _

He can't hold the sobs back.

That entry was 3 days ago. The fact that her 'happy moment' mentioned nothing about her being happy to be alive didn't escape him.

**A/N: Thanks to my pre-readers Crackylu and my wifey, BittenIn Ca! love you, hookahs!**


	2. The Scientist

**Chapter song: The Scientist by Coldplay**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

Standing at entrance of their bedroom, he stares at his wife's sleeping form. She's lying on her side, curled in a ball, as far away from his side of the bed as she can get. She hasn't always slept this way.

It used to be that she slept wherever he was sleeping.

He walks quietly to her side of bed. Gently, he puts her journal back on her bedside table as he crouches down beside her.

Then he looks at her- _really _looks at her.

She looks sad, even in her sleep. Dried tear tracks stain her cheeks.

Guilt. He did that to her. He's the reason she cries herself to sleep at night. He's been so caught up in himself, his work, _his_ needs. Feeling pity for himself, because his wife wasn't there for him anymore.  
>It didn't even cross his mind that she had felt the same.<p>

Regret. When they moved a couple months before their 17th wedding anniversary, they started drifting apart. He was always at the university, and she was always in bed before he got home. He should have just talked to her, told her what he was feeling. Instead, he accepted the first attention he had gotten in awhile.

Attention from another woman.

Shame. He broke his vows. And for what? Because he was feeling sorry for himself? Because he decided that a few minutes of feeling wanted was worth his whole marriage?

He doesn't deserve her. She doesn't deserve what he's become. She deserves _so much_ better.

As if a fog has been lifted, he sees all the mistakes he's made these past two and a half years.

They moved out here so he could follow his dream as a professor. When he got the job offer, she supported his decision to take it. They uprooted their comfortable life and moved away from their family and their friends, and she didn't once complain. As a photographer, she could capture moments anywhere.

She used to ask him to put aside grading papers for a while to spend some time with her and their son.  
>So he started staying later at work to avoid an argument over priorities.<p>

When he would call her in between classes, it was always the same thing_. What time are you going to be home? Can you try to make it home at a decent hour? There's stuff around the house I need your help with. _He thought she was being selfish. He was working his ass off to provide for their family.

So he stopped calling.

He realizes now that she was just lonely. She needed him, and he wasn't there. Now, instead of going to him, she goes to a therapist.

She doesn't even believe her life is worth living anymore. He did that. He made her feel worthless, unwanted.

Climbing onto his side of the bed, he does something that _used_ to be familiar.

He pulls her to him and holds her close, not planning on ever letting her go again.

In a tearful, hoarse whisper he tells her how sorry he is, how much he loves her. He makes promises to be that man again. The man he used to be. The man that called in the middle of the day just to hear her voice and tell her that he loved her. The man that knew what she needed before she asked. The man that held her close every night.

He just hopes it's not too late.

**A/N: Special thanks to my prereaders, Crackylu and BittenIn Ca, and also to my awesome beta, Allison Cullen.**


	3. Innocence

**Chapter song: Innocence by Avril Lavigne (m2 dubstep remix or the original) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. **

She awakens sometime in the very early morning. Opening her eyes, she looks at her bedside clock.

3:07.

This has been normal for her for a quite awhile. What hasn't been is the warm body pressed against her back and the heavy weight of an arm wrapped around her waist.

She feels stiff. She knows she needs to move, but the feeling of his arm wrapped around her, holding her close, makes her stay for a while longer.

After several minutes of lying awake, enjoying the rarity of this feeling of fleeting happiness, she tries to move. With every wiggle, his arm tightens around her even more, keeping her closer to him. She gives up for a few minutes, but as comfortable as she feels in his arms, her body is protesting and the need to switch positions is becoming priority. When she tries to move again, her husband's sleep filled voice startles her.

"You okay?"

She turns her head to look at him behind her. He's leaned up on his elbow, looking over her, with his other arm still wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Yeah. Just a little stiff."

He nods and lays his head back down, loosening his arm around her just enough so she can move. She starts to get comfortable on her back, but he pulls her front to his chest and moves them so he's partially on his back. Both of his arms wrapped around her.

As she lays her head on his chest and wraps her arm around his torso, she takes a deep breath and lets it out contently. He hasn't held her like this in _so_ _long_. She almost forgot what it felt like.

_Loved. Safe._ _Wanted._

Just as she's about to fall back into sleep, she feels his lips on her forehead and hears a whispered "I love you", along with a squeeze of his arms.

She swallows thickly, holding back the tears that want to fall. She can't remember the last time she heard him say I love you without obligation. If she's awake before he leaves for work, she hears it. If they're ending their phone call with each other, she hears it. On her birthday, she hears it. Their anniversary, she hears it. They haven't made love in months, but even then it felt like he said it out of obligation.

But now, in this moment, she knows it isn't. She can _feel_ it. It's in his actions, his touch, and it feels _so good. S_he only hopes she can carry on the high of this moment for the rest of the day. Hell, she'll even take just the rest of the morning.

After she's sure she can speak without breaking down, she squeezes him back and says in a choked whisper, "I love you, too."

**A/N: Thanks to my pre readers for this chapter, Crackylu and my wifey, BittenIn Ca… also to my kick ass beta, Allison Cullen!**


	4. Blinding

**Chapter song: Blinding by Florence + The Machine**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

Sitting back in the office chair of his tiny office, his eyes closed, he has his head thrown back. His hand is in her hair as she bobs her head up and down on him at just the right pace.

He has always loved his wife's mouth.

Whether he's kissing it, or it's kissing him. Whether it's just a small smile, or a pout.

But right now? He's falling in love with it all over again. She knows just the right places to touch with her hands, just the right places to touch with her tongue. She knows when to go fast, when to slow down. No one's ever known his body like her.

He hears his office door open, and then a loud gasp is followed by a choked sob. He jerks his head up to see who failed to knock before entering.

His wife.

Confused, he looks down.

Grasped in his hand is the wrong color of hair. The eyes staring back at him are the wrong color of eyes. Those hands... that mouth. Everything is _wrong._  
>He shoves her off of him and stands quickly while zipping himself up.<p>

He looks over towards the door, but she's gone. The sounds of her cries are the only proof that she was ever there.

He runs out of his office, looking both ways to see where she went. Seeing that she is nowhere in sight, he follows the sound of her cries. He tries calling out for her, but no sound will come out. He runs down hall after hall, opening door after door, only to find dead end after dead end.

Stopping only to catch his breath, his pace is frantic, his heart is panicked. He opens another door and suddenly he's in their home. He listens for her cries again and runs up the stairs. Her sobs grow louder the closer he gets to their bedroom.

Relief runs through him as he opens the bedroom door and he sees her curled up under the covers in their bed. Her once desperate cries are now eerily silent.

As he approaches her, he notices she's sleeping and hugging something to her chest. Curious, he crouches down next to her to get a better look.

A picture frame.

He gently grabs her hand to get it out of her grasp, but something's not right.

She feels like ice.

He looks up at her face and loses his breath. Her face is pale, _too_ _pale._ Her closed eyes are too dark against her pale skin. Her lips are tinted in a pale grey-blue, no longer his favorite shade of pink.

Panicked, he tries in vain to wake her up. She's stiff, _too_ _stiff. _

He screams her name, shakes her, and yells to no one and anyone to help his wife. A loud shatter is heard over his pleas. The picture frame she was holding, a family portrait, is now shattered into pieces on the floor.

He jolts awake trembling and unable to catch his breath, sweat covering his body. He feels warm hands on his face and the sound of his wife's soft but strained voice telling him over and over again he's okay, that it was just a dream.

He grabs her and holds her as close to him as he can get her, but still not close enough. Never close enough.

She runs her hand through his hair, wet with sweat. Still trying to sooth him with her soft voice, repeating like a mantra that she's here, it was just a dream.

His thoughts scream at her that it wasn't just a dream. _It wasn't. _ It was too close to reality. If their son came home a moment too late...

He swallows down the roll of nausea that hits him and holds her even tighter.

After several minutes, his breathing slows down and his trembles subside. His emotions are still all over the place, but there's one emotion that weighs heavily on him the most.

Guilt.

She's comforting him. _She's_ comforting _him._

He unwraps his arms from around her, unable to even look her in the eyes as he sits up. She asks him if he needs anything. _Another stab of guilt._ He shakes his head no and gets out of bed. She tries again, asking if he's sure. He looks at the clock. 5:58. He nods his head yes and tells her he's just going to take a shower and get an early start on the day.

He still can't look at her as he walks passed her to go into their en suite bathroom. He doesn't want her to see the fear that is still in his eyes. He could have lost her. That could have been what he came home to that night.

He can't shake the memories of his dream, the memories of what could have been, or what could still be.

Turning the shower temp to the highest, he attempts to wash away any remembrance of the dream. This becomes futile as flashes of his wife's lifeless body, cold as ice and the ugliest colors of blue run rampant through his mind. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, but the image seems to be ingrained in his mind.

Resting his forehead on the cool tile of the shower, he can not help but think of how easy all this could have been prevented if he had just talked to her, paid more attention to her. Simple things a man does with his wife without even having to think about it. He's so lost in his thoughts that he does not even realize the water's turning cold until he's numb.

Walking to his closet to get ready for the day, he still can't bring himself to look at his wife. He does not know what will happen if he does. He's afraid that all it will take is just one look at her and he'll confess everything. The affair, the journal, even his dream. All the things he's not sure she even wants to know about right now. He's afraid that if he tells her, it will be the final nail in her coffin.

The only thing he can do now is _show_ her that he loves her. Show her that she's wanted, _needed_. Show her that she and their son are his everything. Just show her that he can still be that man he used to be. The one she fell in love with.

Just before he leaves the bedroom, he finds the courage to finally look at her. She's asleep, but he can tell it's not restful. There's a crease in her brow, one she always wears when she's worried or thinking hard about something. He can't even begin to wonder what it is she's dreaming about.

Leaning down, he kisses her forehead, then her cheek, whispering I love you before leaving their bedroom and quietly shutting the door.

Once he starts to walk away from the door, he starts feeling a sense of anxiety. What if he comes home today and his nightmare becomes his reality? How is he supposed to go to work not knowing if she's okay?

As he starts his car, he realizes he won't be able to. He can't just not go to work, though. Not because it's more important than her, but because he knows she'll be suspicious and she'll worry even more. Especially the way he acted after she comforted him this morning.

Getting back out of his car, he re-enters his house and runs up the stairs to his son's bedroom.

**A/N: Huge thanks to my pre readers for this chapter, Crackylu and my wifey, BittenIn Can.. also to my kick ass beta, Allison Cullen!**


	5. Fallen

**Chapter song: Fallen by Sarah McLachlan**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

Head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He sits in his tiny office so lost in thought that he doesn't even hear her come in.

"Hey… You look tired."

Startled, he looks up and clears his throat, "I am."

She touches his arm. He flinches.

Confused by his reaction, she slowly removes her hand from his arm and says, "So, uh, we haven't been able to talk much since the summer classes started…I figured if you're free right now, we could go get some lunch…"

He puts his head back into his hands. He's tired. He wishes he didn't have to do this, and not because he wishes he could be with her.

He should have never been with her in the first place.

"I can't do this anymore- _we _can't do this anymore," he says in a strained voice just above a whisper.

Silence. He looks up at her.

"You're not just talking about lunch, are you," she states quietly.

He shakes his head and says, "I love my wife…"

Looking down again, he fists his hands in his hair, trying to think of how it ever came to this. In a quiet but forceful tone, he adds, "She doesn't deserve any of this."

She takes a deep breath, trying to come up with something to say without sounding like a petulant child.

It doesn't seem to be working.

"You've never…. You don't even," frustrated to come up with the right words, she finally says, "I didn't even realize you still loved your wife….. You know, you have a _real_ funny way of showing it."

He rubs his hands over his face as unwanted images from his dream earlier this morning race through his mind.

_Cold, lifeless, stiff._

"I know," he whispers.

Silence settles upon them again. His mind is filled with guilt and regret. Hers is filled with confusion and anger.

She stares at him, he stares at the floor.

Her confusion and anger win out over the silence. She needs answers.

"I just don't understand. What changed?"

When he doesn't answer, she continues, "I mean, I know we haven't really seen each other in the last few weeks, and I know what we have isn't exactly conventional, but after six months of…whatever this is," she says as she waves her hand back and forth between them, "I think I deserve an explanation."

Silence again.

He leans back in his chair. Looking out the window, he quietly replies, "You don't."

Shocked at his answer, it takes a moment for her to speak.

"Excuse me?"

He looks down and shakes his head slowly. Finally meeting her eyes, he says, "You don't deserve one. She's my _wife_, Kate. That's the only explanation you need."

She knows by his tone that this is final. She's always known in the back of her mind that their arrangement of sorts wasn't going to be anything more. She had just hoped. He's never even taken her on a date besides the occasional lunch in between their classes, or take-out dinner when they worked late in his office. It was just sex and the occasional blow job for him.

When he first came to the university, they worked closely together and became good 'work' friends. She knew he was having problems with his marriage after his first year here, even though he would never talk about it. She just knew by the way he started staying later after work, when he could have easily taken the work home. She also noticed that he stopped excusing himself at lunch to call his wife. She even asked him about it once, but he just brushed her question off.

She noticed all of these things because, at the time, she was having similar problems with her own marriage.

When she was going through her divorce, something just switched. They both just needed a release. And that came in the form of sex.

For a while, it was just sex for her too. It's just been in these last couple of months that she started thinking about him differently, fantasizing about a future with him. She can't even pin point what changed for her or why she even started thinking of him that way. He's always been the same; never calling her, even though he has her phone number. Knowing where she lives, but never stopping by. She talks to him about her life, he never talks about his.

He's never really even kissed her. The only time his mouth had ever touched hers was right before they had sex, and even those kisses were rare.

Now something has changed, and she probably won't ever know what that is either. She knows him well enough to know that he's a very private person who holds everything inside. If he doesn't want to talk about it, he won't. She's only seen his vulnerable side once.

And that is right now.

Breathing in deeply and letting it out slowly, she knows what she needs to do. She's going to walk out of here with her dignity. He's right. She knew he was married. If he wants to end what they have between them, what argument does she really have? She's still confused and angry, but not with him. Mostly with herself, now, and the situation she put herself in. She's a 41 year old divorced woman, sleeping with a married man. She's smarter than this. She has a _doctorate_ for Christ's sake.

The need to break down is strong, but she can't let him see that.

Shaking her head at herself, her tone is resolved. "You're right. I'll just... go."

He watches her walk out the door, confused and relieved that she accepted it so easily. He doesn't have it in him to try and figure out why. His focus is finally where it's supposed to be; his wife, his marriage, and his family. Now, he just needs to figure out where to go from here.

The need to call his son, to make sure everything is going okay, weighs heavily on his mind.

He hopes his son wasn't too concerned when he woke him up this morning. With that dream so fresh in his mind, he needed reassurance. As long as their son was with her, he had to believe that she'd be okay. He handed him a fifty and told him to just let her sleep, but take her to breakfast or lunch, maybe even see a movie when she got up. His son agreed, but then remembered that he had to work at two.

Anxiety had spiked in him again, until he realized that he could make it home by five.

Looking at the time, he sees that it's almost one o'clock and starts gathering the things he needs for his next class.  
>Making it to the lecture hall just in time, he sets his things down on his desk right as students start to file in. The next two hours go by surprisingly quick, and before he knows it, it's time for their 15 minute break.<p>

As he closes the door to his office, he wastes no time in getting his phone out to call his son.  
>After a few rings, his son finally picks up.<p>

"Hey, dad."

"Hey, how'd it go with your mom today?"

"Oh, uh, she never got up. I waited 'til around 1:30 before I had to start getting ready for work."

"What do you mean 'she never got up'?" He asks immediately, but trying not to sound too panicked.

"I _mean_, she never got up," his son responds to, what he thinks is, a stupid question.

Silence.

Knowing his dad's silence is never a good thing, and he's most likely not happy with his sarcastic answer, he explains, "I looked in your room at, like, twelve, and she was still asleep... You told me not to wake her up."

What his son doesn't know is that his father's silence is out of pure paralyzed fear that, _this is it._

This is his nightmare coming to life.

**A/N: Huge thanks to my pre readers in this chapter, Crackylu and my wifey, BittenIn Ca, AND my sister, Ashley… and also to my kick ass, super fast beta, Allison Cullen!**


	6. Epiphany

**Chapter song: Epiphany by Staind**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

Racing down the highway, he calls his wife's cell phone for what seems like, and probably is, the hundredth time. It rings four times and then goes to voicemail, just like it has every time he's called since he talked with his son.

He thought of calling his son back and having him go check on her since he was closer, but he knew that if this really is his nightmare, he couldn't let his son bear witness to that.

Frustrated, he throws his phone at the seat, then curses as it bounces and ricochets off the passenger-side window, falling to pieces on the floor.

Without the phone as a distraction, his mind starts wandering.

He thinks back to this morning, her comforting him, him pulling away. He couldn't even look at her afterward. Is that really going to be the last memory he has of her?

No.

He can't think like that. Not right now.

He just needs to focus on getting home.

Screeching to a halt in the driveway, he wastes no time getting into the house. As soon as he opens the front door, he calls out for her. It's eerily quiet. The only sound he hears is the pounding of his own heart as he runs up the stairs toward their bedroom. 

Just as he approaches the partially open bedroom door, he stops. A sense of déjà vu washes over him as images from his dream flash through his mind.

He has never been this scared in his entire life.

With a shaky hand, he pushes the door open the rest of the way.

Relief floods through him like a tidal wave when he sees she's not there. Knees wanting to give out, heart pounding in his ears, he can't help but close his eyes. But, the feeling of relief only lasts a few moments. He still has no idea where she is, has no idea if she's okay.

Just as he's about to go looking for her, something catches his eye through the window.

At a closer look, he sees the figure of a woman sitting in the sand, arms wrapped around her knees, looking out onto the lake.

He would know that figure anywhere.

Stepping out onto the balcony, he sits back in one of the chairs, just staring at her as if she'll disappear.

The pull he feels to go to her is strong. He would love more than anything to go and sit behind her in the sand and hold her to his chest, but uncertainty holds him back. He feels he has to tread lightly with her, not knowing what could break her.

He thought this morning, that all he would have to do is show her that he loves her, but now he's uncertain that it would be enough. Does she even want him to touch her? She seemed okay with it last night, but that could have been because it was three o'clock in the morning. With so many things still unsaid, and so many things he's still not sure he _should_ say, he feels at a loss on what to do or where to even start.

With a huff, he stands and makes his way back into their bedroom. As he changes out of his work clothes, he sees something that he hopes will guide him in the right direction.

Her journal.

Holding the journal in his hands, he doesn't open it right away.

He's procrastinating. Afraid of what else might be in there.

Hearing the rumbling sound of thunder off in the distance, he knows it won't be long before she comes inside to escape the rain.

Checking out the window, and seeing she's still there, he quickly opens the journal and starts flipping through the pages, hoping to find a new entry.

_Wednesday, June 1st, 2011_

_I went to see my therapist yesterday. The whole session was spent talking about everything I was feeling Thursday, and why I went as far as trying to end my life. I guess it was a lot of things. Seth's last day of high school was that day, and everything just seemed to hit me all at once. Who's going to need me when he's gone? It's such a lonely question._

_She ended up prescribing me some new 'happy pills' and sent me home with a bunch of information on them. Apparently, trying to kill yourself on 'happy pills' means they're not working, or making it worse. I probably should have read the information she gave me last time._

_Today I feel happy though, and not because of the new pills. For the first time in months, I woke up in my husband's arms. I've craved his touch for so long that I didn't even realize how much until that moment. The feeling was so good, and so rare, that I had a hard time falling back to sleep. I just laid there pretending everything was okay. That whoever she is doesn't exist. That it's me he still wants._

_When I started to fall back to sleep, he started breathing a little heavier and mumbling in his sleep. He was clearly having a nightmare. I got a little scared when I couldn't wake him up, but the look in his eyes when he finally did? It was something I will never forget. In the 23 years I've known him, I've never seen him look so scared. He grabbed me and held me so tight, the trembles going through his body shook mine. I never found out what his dream was about, mostly because he became distant after he calmed down. Maybe he was embarrassed. I don't know._

_Maybe tonight I'll fall asleep in his arms._

_Happy moment: Feeling wanted._

Leaving any uncertainties he had behind him, he makes his way to the only woman he's ever wanted, will ever want, determined to never break a promise to her ever again.

**A/N: Special thanks to my prereaders, Crackylu and BittenIn Ca, and also to my wonderful beta, Allison Cullen**


	7. Colorblind

**Chapter song: Colorblind by Counting Crows **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

Sitting in the soft sand, wind blowing through her hair, she watches the waves get rougher as the skies get darker. Besides her darkroom, this is her favorite place to clear her mind. It's peaceful, without the unwanted silence.

As the thunder gets closer, and the wind blows stronger, she starts to make her way back to the house. She makes it halfway through their backyard before the skies open up, unleashing ice cold rain on her once warmed skin.

Closing the glass door behind her, all thoughts on what to make for dinner skid to a halt. Her breath catches in her throat as she tries to hold in her screams when she sees a figure standing in front of her.

As her mind finally catches up with her eyes, she's finally able to let out the breath that was caught.

Standing before her, the last person she ever imagined it would be.

Her husband.

"Sorry… I didn't mean to scare you. Thought you'd need this," he says, holding a towel out to her.

She didn't even notice he was holding a towel.

Shaking her head slightly, as if shaking it would help clear her confusion, she takes the towel with a quiet, "Thanks."

As she starts to dry herself off, her mind races.

_Did he say he was coming home early today? Did something happen? Is Seth okay?_

With that thought, she stops running the towel through her hair and looks up at her husband, frantically asking,"Is everything alright? Seth's okay, isn't he?"

Caught off guard by her questions, he stutters his response in, what he hopes is, a soothing tone, "No, I mean, yes, every thing's okay. Seth's okay."'

She visibly relaxes, and brings the towel back to her hair.

Just as she's about to ask him why he's home, he lightly grabs her arm, and takes the towel from her. She looks up at him, completely confused. He looks down at her, hoping she sees everything he can't say.

Gently, he turns her around, and massages the towel through her long, damp hair. She tenses at first, finding his behavior odd, but then decides to stop thinking so much, for once, and enjoy this rare, tender moment with her husband.

As her hair starts to dry, he drops the towel to the floor, laying a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. Rubbing his hands up and down her arms, he brings them back up and wraps them around her, pulling her to his chest. As he rests his cheek on the side of her head, she rests both of her hands on his forearms, both just watching the storm.

Content.

No thoughts on the past. No thoughts about what's to come. Just being content in the moment.

As the storm starts to break, and the sun peeks through the clouds, they both break away, slowly, from each other's arms.

An awkward silence descends upon them.

Not knowing what else to do, she picks up the towel and says she's going to change and then start dinner. Right before she reaches the stairs, she stops, and asks a question she's afraid she already knows the answer to, "Are you staying home for dinner, or are you going back to...work?"

His chest burns with guilt. She already looks defeated, as if she's already expecting him to leave. She can't even look at him as she waits for his answer.

Rubbing his hand over the burn in his chest, he softly answers, "No, um... I'm not going back to work. I was hoping we could have a night... just us."

She finally looks up at him, as he walks toward her. When he reaches her, he takes the towel from her hands and whispers, "I got this," kissing her on the forehead before he makes his way to the laundry room.

She stands there for a few moments, wondering if what just happened really happened.  
>Snapping out of her confused, but happy, daze, she finally makes her way up to their room. As she showers, she thinks back to waking up in his arms, then him holding her after his nightmare, to just a moment ago when he said he was hoping for a night with just them.<p>

She can't help but wonder what has changed between yesterday morning and last night. Should she be concerned, or should she just go with it and hope that whatever it is, it's here to stay?

Most people would think she's stupid for letting him back in without explanation, but she knows the man he used to be. She knows he is still in there somewhere.

And tonight, she saw him.

She just hopes he's here to stay.

**A/N: Special thanks to my pre readers to this chapter, Crackylu and my sister, Ashley… and also to the best beta in the world, Allison Cullen!**


	8. Unsaid

**Chapter songs: Unsaid by The Fray **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

As she cuts the chicken for the fettuccine, she briefly wonders where her husband is. Then she figures he is most likely in his office where he spends most of his time if he's home.

Just as she put the garlic bread in the oven, her phone starts to buzz across the kitchen counter, alerting her of a new text message. It's from her son, letting her know that he'll be going to a bonfire after work, and will be home around midnight. After texting him back to be safe, she realizes she hasn't checked her phone all day.

34 missed calls. All of them were from Edward.

Seeing that she also has 4 new voice messages, she quickly dials her voicemail, and then deletes them all after listening to the click of his phone hanging up each time.

Staring at her phone, wondering if this day could get any stranger, she jumps when the timer goes off, letting her know the bread is done.

After taking it out of the oven, she plugs her phone back into the outlet and sets off to find her husband.  
>He's not in his office where she expected him to be, so she goes back towards the kitchen thinking he may be out on the deck. Just as she passes the living room, she stops, and turns back. Lying across the couch, one arm on his chest, the other hanging over his head off the armrest, is her husband, fast asleep. She stands there for a moment, just taking him in, noticing how exhausted he looks even in sleep.<p>

She debates on whether or not to wake him for dinner, but then thinks back to what he said about having a night to themselves. Just the thought of it appeals more to her than spending another night eating dinner alone.

Sitting on the small space on the couch, next to his side, she gently starts to run her fingers through his hair, speaking his name softly until he starts to stir. As she starts to pull away, he grabs her hand, his eyes still closed, and sleepily kisses her palm, sending warmth up her arm and straight to her heart. Any questions or worries she had before go right out of her mind with that one simple action.

Taking in a deep breath, he finally opens his eyes and looks at her with a sleepy smile.  
>"Hey… smells good in here," he says, voice still gritty with sleep.<p>

"Thanks… It's ready if you're hungry," she says as she's about to stand.

"Starving," he says as he squeezes her hand before he sits up.

As they walk into the kitchen, she starts pulling out plates, as he gets out the silverware. She starts slicing the bread, as he plates their food and brings it to the table. She pulls out the wine glasses as he opens the wine. They work together in tandem, neither needing to ask what the other needs. They just know.  
>Moments like this make them both wonder how they ever drifted apart in the first place.<p>

As they sit down to eat, the conversation is at a stand-still until she can't hold her curiosity in any longer.  
>"So, um, Seth texted me. Said he was going to a bonfire after work with his friends," she starts off quietly.<p>

"Yeah?"

"Mmmhmm…" she says, twirling her noodles with the fork, stalling.

"Well, now that the storm's passed, it should be a nice night for them."

Nodding her head, she finally just spits it out, "I checked my phone after I got his text, and saw that I had a lot of missed calls from you... Are you sure everything's alright?"

Taking a sip of his wine, he wonders how much he should tell her. After reading her journal, he knows she doesn't want to hear about everything just yet. He also doesn't want to let her in on the fact that he has even read her journal. At least, not right now.

"Uh, yeah... Everything's fine. I just… Seth said that you were still in bed when he left for work, so I was calling to see if you were alright… but you didn't answer your phone.

I was worried," he says after a short pause.

"Oh. Sorry... It took me a while to fall back to sleep last night, so I slept in a lot longer than I expected to. And I usually don't take my phone when I go down to the beach..."

"You don't need to apologize. I'm just glad you're okay," he says as he brushes his hand over hers.

Her eyes sting with tears that want to fall, but she holds them in, not wanting him to see how much this is affecting her. She can only wonder what made him worry so much, and why the sudden change in his behavior. She knows that their issues need to be dealt with, but not tonight.

She just wants this night with her husband.

Even though she tries to hide the moisture in her eyes, he still notices. He hopes she doesn't think that's the only reason he came home early. Even if it was the main reason, he wants her to know that there is no other place he would rather be than here with her.

So he tells her, "I was planning on being home by five anyway, so we could have dinner. Listen...I know I haven't-"

"It's okay, Edwa-"

"No, it's not-"

"Edward."

He looks up at her from his plate, surprised by her tone.

"Not tonight… please," she trails off in a pleading whisper.

They stare in each other's eyes for a moment. Hers pleading, and his remorseful.

Nodding his head, he softly agrees, "Not tonight."

**A/N: SATT to my fuckawesome, honest as ever pre reader and SSfAM, Crackylu, and my super awesome, fast as ever beta, Allison Cullen!**


	9. This Year's Love

**Chapter song: This Year's Love by David Gray**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

They spend the rest of dinner talking like they used to, interested in what the other has going on in their life.

She talks about checking out the local art festival that is coming up, and maybe entering in a few of her photographs. What she doesn't talk about, is how this is the first time she's even thought about her photography in a long time. It's been months since she has even entered her darkroom.

He talks about how his classes are going, and how he plans on getting a teacher's assistant in the fall.  
>What he doesn't talk about, is the regret he feels for not getting a TA a long time ago to help lessen the work load. He could have been at home being the husband she deserves.<p>

Sometime after dinner was cleaned up and the bottle of wine was finished, she ends up in his arms as they sit on the couch reminiscing about the countless memories they have shared throughout the years. Laughing together as they remember the crazy things their son did growing up, sharing wistful smiles when they talk about their last family vacation.

Every so often, he lays a light kiss on her head, or rubs his hand up and down her arm, as she draws lazy circles on his chest. This is how they used to spend their nights after their son went to bed. No papers for him to grade or lectures to write. No closing herself off or going straight to bed without saying goodnight.

Just them.

Reconnecting.

At eleven, they decide it's time to turn in. As they both go through their nightly routine, neither of them are able to stop the small smiles that play on their faces. It was a good night, one they haven't had in a while. The elephant in the room doesn't seem so big right now as they both climb into bed, gravitating toward one another.

Laying her head on his chest, they start to settle in, holding each other close just as they did the night before. He still holds her close as his finger lifts her chin and he looks into her eyes. Never loosening his hold on her as his nose brushes hers, and holding her even tighter as his lips softly meet hers.

She relaxes into him even more as their kiss progresses, but stays gentle. Tongues touching with every slight brush of their lips. He moves his hand to her cheek, and she moves her hand up his chest and rests it on his neck as their kiss deepens from gentle to passionate.

Sometime during the kiss, she ends up on her back with him lying partially on her. Still kissing, hands roaming, and legs intertwining. Letting their bodies and hearts do the talking this time.

Clothes start to slowly come off, and just as the last item is discarded, he hesitates, but just for a moment. When he looks into her eyes, he sees all the love and desperation she holds in them for this moment. She needs this.

_They_ need this.

Pushing into her, he leans down and kisses her, whispering, "I love you," on her lips. They make love slowly; full of gentle touches and soft kisses anywhere they can reach on each other. As they start to reach their peaks, he clasps their hands together above her head and leans his forehead against hers, sharing each heated breath with her. His pace speeds up just enough to send her over the edge, bringing him with her.

As his high starts to wear off, he loosens his hold on her hands and rests his head in the crook of her neck, still breathing heavily. She unlocks her legs from around him and brings her arms down, moving them under his to wrap over each of his shoulders, leaving a trail of soft kisses up and down his neck as her feet rub up and down his calves, slowly.

Pulling out of her, he lifts his head and looks down at her just as she opens her eyes. Curling his hand up to the side of her face, he caresses her cheek with his thumb, causing her eyes to close again and a content smile to form on her lips. When she opens her eyes again, he leans down and soundly kisses her lips before gently rolling off to the side and bringing her with him.

They hold each other close, caressing and kissing, until she needs to break away to clean up. Noticing he's asleep when she comes out of the bathroom, she gently climbs into bed so she doesn't wake him. He awakes anyway, but just long enough to wrap her in his arms and whisper that he loves her. She kisses his chest, above his heart, and whispers it back, falling into a restful sleep in her husband's arms.

**A/N: Thanks for this chapter goes to my pre reader, Crackylu, and to my lovely beta, Allison Cullen**


	10. Borrowed Time

**Chapter song: Borrowed Time by A Fine Frenzy**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

Lying in bed, he watches his wife as she sleeps. His alarm had gone off several minutes ago, but he can't seem to tear himself away from her warm, soft body, lying naked against his. He had battled with himself when he first woke up; wondering if making love last night was the right thing to do. But, then he thought back to how they had reconnected not only on a physical level, but an emotional one as well, and that is something he can never regret.

Knowing he can't stay in bed all day like he wishes he could, he gently removes her body from against his and gets out of bed, covering her back up before heading to the shower.

After quickly showering, and getting dressed, he makes his way to the bed where his wife is still asleep. Crouching down beside her, he moves the hair away from her face and kisses her goodbye on the cheek, whispering that he loves her.

Just as he walks out of their bedroom, he thinks better of it and turns back around. Sitting down gently on the bed beside her, he speaks her name softly while rubbing the back of his hand against her cheek. He whispers her name a few more times before she slowly starts to open her eyes.

"Hey…," he says quietly, moving his hand to rest on her side.

She closes her eyes again, her mind still clouded with sleep, until she feels him rub her side with his hand. Stretching a little and turning partially on her back, she starts to open her eyes again, blinking up at him.

Smiling down at her, he softly says, "Good morning."

"Morning," she replies groggily, as she rests her hand on top of his, returning his smile.

"I gotta get to work, but I should be home sometime around six."

Nodding her head as she closes her eyes, she squeezes his hand lightly and sleepily replies, "M'kay…"

Laughing a little under his breath, he leans down and kisses her on the forehead, whispering, "Get some sleep," before standing and making his way to the bedroom door.

Just as his hand touches the doorknob, he hears her softly call his name.  
>Dropping his hand back to his side, he turns around and asks just as softly, "Yeah?"<p>

"I love you."

Leaving his spot by the door, he makes his way back over to her and leans over the bed. Just before kissing her softly on the lips, he whispers, "I love you, too."

On his drive to work, he thinks about how differently his morning has gone so far, compared to the morning before. Remembering the anxiety he had felt yesterday, not knowing if his wife would even be alive when he got home, was enough to make him feel sick again at just the thought of it.

This morning he doesn't feel as worried as he had been yesterday. After reading her journal and finding out that she had talked to her therapist about it, all of the fears he had running through his mind yesterday have mostly calmed. He's not naive about depression, and he knows that she could still go back to that state she was in last week. He just hopes she'll let him help her through it if it ever were to get to that point again. Even though he's the reason she has it to begin with.

As he sits in student traffic, he starts to wonder about when she'll be ready to talk. She wasn't ready last night, which he had expected. Part of him hopes it will be soon, so they can start working on repairing their marriage. The other part of him, the part that wants to hold onto moments like they'd had last night, makes him hope it won't be anytime soon. The thought that she might never forgive him crosses his mind, sending pains throughout his chest and into his stomach. He can't stand the thought of having to live the rest of his life without her, but he knows it's a possibility, and he only has himself to blame.

By the time he makes it into his office, he's thankful for all of the work he left unfinished from the day before. It's enough to keep him distracted from his thoughts throughout the rest of the day, that time seems to fly by.

Once his last class of the day is over with, he heads straight out to his car. He's so anxious to get home, that he bypasses some of his students trying to get his attention. He knows his class is difficult, and that some of his students need the extra help, but right now he just wants to get home to his family.

When he had talked to his wife earlier during his lunch, she seemed a little shocked, but happy, that he had called. After he told her he'd be home for dinner, she seemed even happier as she mentioned that their son would also be joining them. After they ended their call, he realized that this would be the first family dinner at home that they'd had in a long time, so it's no wonder to him why his wife was so excited.

Walking into the house from their garage, the smell of his wife's famous roast fills the air, which also happens to be his favorite. As he enters into the kitchen, he sees his son and wife standing at the island putting a salad together. He greets his son first with their usual fake punches to each other's sides, and then he makes his way to his wife, kissing her on the cheek and whispering that he missed her. She returns the sentiment, leading to a soft kiss on the lips, earning an exaggerated sigh from their son.

During dinner, conversation doesn't start off awkward as it had the night before. Their son makes it easy as he talks animatedly about camping on the beach this weekend with his friends, and a few other plans he has for the summer. As he observes how happy and relaxed his wife is throughout dinner, he thinks about how much she has changed back into her old self just since yesterday. It makes him realize how much he has really missed her.

Settling into bed for the night, she lies comfortably in his arms as he rubs her back, soothing her to sleep. He remembers how he used to do this for her when she had trouble falling asleep at night. He just can't remember why he had ever stopped.

The following day starts out just like the day before; waking up to his wife in his arms, seeing the smile on her face after he wakes her up to tell her goodbye, and working through lunch to make it home for dinner on time.

Just before his last class starts, he sits in his office chair and calls his wife to see how her day is going. She seems distracted, so after the second time he has to repeat himself, he asks if she's alright. She answers him back that she's fine, but she doesn't sound right, which sets his nerves on edge.  
>After a moment of silence, he asks if she's sure and, after a brief hesitation from her, she explains to him that she thinks she's ready to talk tonight.<p>

He has no idea how to respond to that. He knew this had to happen sooner rather than later, but he never thought she would be the one to initiate it. It makes him wonder why she picked tonight to talk, but he doesn't ask her. Instead, he ends up responding with a quiet 'okay' and tells her he'll be home at around 6:30. After they exchange 'I love yous', he closes his phone and throws it onto his desk.  
>Leaning on his elbows, and resting the front of his chin on his clasped hands, he starts to feel numb with anxiety. His mind is so overwhelmed with his thoughts that he considers canceling his class, but then decides against it and heads to the lecture hall. He's hoping the distraction of his job will help calm his nerves some before facing the inevitable when he gets home.<p>

Watching the door shut as the last of his students leave the lecture hall, he nervously looks at the clock above the door and starts slowly to gather his things.

As he walks down the hall to his office, he is stopped by one of his students with questions about an upcoming test. This time he doesn't ignore them, and patiently answers all of the questions they have.

As he closes up his office for the night, he takes his time, even organizing some papers that are spread out on his desk and re-checking the office hours he has scheduled for the following week.

On his drive home, he contemplates taking a longer route, but then looks at the clock and sees that he doesn't have time to. He has procrastinated long enough, and being late wouldn't be a good idea.

Arriving at home, he parks the car in the garage, but doesn't make a move to go inside. He thought he would be ready to talk whenever she was, but now, he's not so sure as the realization that he could lose everything tonight hits him hard, causing his heart to clench painfully in his chest. He knows he needs to calm himself down before he walks into their house, so he tries to think of the last couple of days and how great they've been, focusing on not what he has to lose, but what he has that's worth fighting for.

Taking a deep breath, that wasn't as relaxing as he thought it would be, he grabs his things out of the car and heads inside.

**A/N: Thanks goes to my pre reader, Crackylu, and to my beta, Allison Cullen **


	11. Oh That I Had

**Chapter song: Oh That I had by Ruby Frost and Mt. Eden**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

Entering the house, he's surprised, and confused, at the scene he walks into. He had come up with several different scenarios on what he would come home to, but his wife swaying to the music she has on while she cooks at the stove wasn't one of them. The atmosphere seems light, not tense like he thought it would be. Setting his laptop case down on the floor, he leans up against the wall, just watching her.

She is so lost in the music, and thinking about how the last two days have gone, that she doesn't hear him come in.

She woke up yesterday morning feeling like she could finally breathe again, and she wanted more than anything to feel that way every day.

She thought back to when they had made love. The emotions she had felt during and after were so intense that she could feel them in her bones. What made it even more powerful, was that she knew he had felt it too.

When she woke up this morning, she felt just as light as she did the morning before. As she showered, she thought back to how they had spent dinner as a family, and how two mornings in a row her husband had awakened her to kiss her goodbye before he left for work. Something had changed in him; something for the better. It made her wish that they could just continue on with their lives like the last two and a half years never happened. But, deep down she knew that they would never be able to survive if they ignored all of their problems.

When she had gotten out of the shower, she finally felt confident enough to face everything she had been hiding from. She had even called and spoke with her therapist about everything she was feeling, which helped her realize that she had already accepted his affair. The only thing left for her to do was to move forward by opening herself up and forgiving him.

She knows tonight won't be easy, but she can't help but feel optimistic about what the future holds for them.

As she turns the temperature down on the stew, she startles a bit as she feels warm arms wrap around her torso, but relaxes when familiar lips whisper in her ear.

"Hey...Do you need help with anything?"

Turning around in his arms, she smiles and shakes her head no. Smiling back at her, he dips his head down and kisses her before breaking away to change out of his work clothes.

During dinner, there seems to be a silent understanding between the two of them as they keep conversation light; both just wanting to enjoy this one last dinner together before everything changes again.

As their bowls begin to empty and the bread is almost finished, it begins to get quiet around the table. Both are apprehensive about what lies ahead, knowing that once the last bite is eaten, they can no longer go on pretending that their problems don't exist.

Neither talks as they clear the table. They work together at a slow pace, biding time before they have to face this impending moment in their marriage.

As she wipes down the same counter she's been cleaning for the last several minutes, she tries to clear her mind and calm down her nerves by watching the waves crash into the shore through the large picture window in the dining room. But, as soon as she hears him start the dishwasher behind her, her nerves spike and her heart rate picks up. She wishes there was some kind of button she could press to fast forward through all of this.

Turning around, he notices that his wife is frozen in place, and the towel she was wiping the counter with is now fisted in her hand. Taking a deep breath, he walks up behind her and gently removes it from her grasp, tossing it next to the sink. Grabbing her arm softly, he turns her around and brings her into him, holding her close. She presses her face into his chest, breathing him in, as she wraps her arms around his waist, holding onto him tightly. Both of them are just trying to hold on for a few moments longer.

She's the first to pull back, and as she does he loosens his arms from around her slightly, not wanting to lose contact just yet. She looks up at him and sees that he's trying to be strong by giving her a small smile, but she can see the worry in his eyes. As she gives him the same small smile in return, he loosens his hold completely from her and grabs her hand, guiding them into the living room.

Sitting on the couch, they don't sit as close as they had just a couple of nights ago; they are sitting far enough away to give each other space, but close enough to be comfortable.

Turning a little to the side, just enough to face her, he's the first to break the silence. "I'm not sure where to start or how we should do this... I-"

"I know about the affair...," she interrupts him quietly. Grabbing the throw pillow that sits between them to hug to her chest, she starts to explain, "A few months ago, I found a receipt in one of your pockets while doing the laundry, and there was only one item bought on there… We haven't used those in years," she adds in a whisper that holds no emotion, trying to keep herself from breaking down right away.

He already knows how she had found out from reading her journal, but before he can respond, she continues, dejectedly, "There's just been one woman…right?"

She's unable to look at him as she waits for him to answer, choosing instead to stare at the space between them as she hugs the pillow tighter. She has only suspected one, but that could just be because that's what she has wanted to believe. She doesn't know how she'll feel if there's been more.

After what seems like a lifetime, but has probably been only seconds, she hears him answer, "Yes," in a  
>quiet voice of his own, only his is filled with shame. Tears immediately spring from her eyes, unable to keep them in any longer, and fall quickly down her face. She had prepped herself for his confirmation, but that didn't make it hurt any less.<p>

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," he says in a strained voice, while reaching over and wiping the tears from her face.

Shaking him off, and wiping the tears off herself, she asks, "It's not someone I know, is it?"

He balls his hands tightly into fists, trying to keep himself from comforting her like he wants to as he answers her remorsefully, "No... I used to work with her when we first moved here," and before she gets the chance to ask, he continues, "but, nothing happened between us until about six months ago."  
>Nodding her head, she asks the next question she's wanted to know the answer to for the past two days. "Is it over?"<p>

"Yes..."

"When was the last time you…?" She can't finish the rest of the question; it hurts to even think about it, let alone say it out loud.

"A few weeks ago… Before the spring semester ended," he answers quietly.

A little surprised and relieved at his answer, she doesn't ask her next question right away. She thinks back to the last few weeks and is surprised that she didn't notice the change herself; his sporadic, nightly showers, the one change in his behavior that had tipped her off in the first place, had been absent for about the same time. She'd always had trouble sleeping, but it was on those nights, the nights where he would head straight for the shower when he got home, that she had trouble sleeping the most. She usually spent those nights walking alone on the beach after he had gone to sleep, unable to lie next to him knowing that it wasn't her who he wanted to be sharing a bed with.

Bringing herself back into the present, she asks in a choked whisper, "Why?"

He closes his eyes, and swallows thickly, wondering to himself how he's supposed to answer a question that he himself doesn't know the answer to. "I don't know… I've asked myself that same question over and over, and I can't- I don't," he stops himself, taking in a deep breath before he quietly continues, shaking his head, "What I've done… no answer seems good enough…there's no excuse for it.  
>I wish I had a better answer for you, but I don't… I was stupid and selfish. I had it in my head that you weren't in love me anymore because it seemed like you were never happy with anything I tried to do for you. I know, now, that all you needed was me, and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you like I should have been. Besides the affair... it's the one thing I regret the most," he adds, trailing off in a whisper.<p>

Letting his answer sink in, she sits there silently playing with a loose string on the pillow, as he sits next to her watching more tears fall from her eyes, desperately wanting to wipe them away.

The more she thinks about his answer, the more she realizes she'll never be satisfied with what he has to say about it. He's right; any excuse or reasons for his infidelity will never matter. Even though she has already accepted his affair, she doesn't know how to forgive him. She knows that she doesn't want to divorce him; it makes her sick to even think about it, but she knows that they can't survive in a marriage without trust. She's hoping the marriage counselor her therapist had suggested can help them through it.

She's brought out of her musings when she sees the box of tissues from the bathroom in her line of vision. Looking up, she sees her husband sitting in front of her on the coffee table, holding them out for her along with a bottle of water. She didn't even notice he had gotten up from the couch.  
>Taking a couple tissues from the box and then grabbing the water he had offered, she thanks him in a broken whisper, hoarse from crying.<p>

"You're welcome," he says, setting the tissue box down next to him on the coffee table.

After taking a few much needed sips of water, she clears her throat before quietly saying, "I don't think-," she stops herself, shaking her head as she corrects herself, "No...I know we can't do this on our own. If we're ever going to get through this, we need someone to help us. I have a number for a marriage counselor that we can go to... that is, if you want to-"

"Of course," he agrees immediately, "I think it'd be best." He's thankful that she suggested it, having no idea where to go from here.

After giving him a nod, she goes back to playing with the loose string on the pillow as she tries to build up the courage to say what she has to say next. He's not the only one who has been keeping secrets, and she knows she needs to tell him everything that she's been hiding from him.

Cradling his head in his hands, he grows frustrated with himself, knowing that he has to hurt her again before the night is over. He still needs to tell her that he's been reading her journal, but he's not sure how to bring it up.

Just as he's about to just blurt it out, she gives him an opening.

"There are some things I need to tell you," she starts, but then pauses, taking in a deep breath before she continues, "I've been seeing a therapist-"

"I know..."

"What?" she asks, as she quickly looks up at him, clearly confused.

Taking his a deep breath of his own and letting it out slowly, he looks at her, ashamed, and says, "I've been reading your journal... I saw it on your nightstand one night, and I thought it was just a book at first, but when I realized what it was I took it into my office and started reading it. I know I shouldn't have but... I just-," he stops abruptly, letting out a huff of air, trying to find the words to express why he read it without making it seem like it was her fault.

Closing his eyes briefly, he bows his head down and says quietly, "We've grown apart so much in these last couple of years that I just wanted to know who you were again... When I saw that the first entry mentioned that you've been seeing a therapist, I couldn't stop myself from reading the rest... The more I read, the more I hated myself for the way I've made you feel on a daily basis. I've been so selfish, that I never even noticed that you were so depressed... I could have lost you," saying the last part in an anguished whisper as his eyes meet hers.

She looks away from him, resting her chin on the pillow, as she tries to figure out how this makes her feel. The selfish part of her feels a sense of calm that she won't have to go through telling him herself, while the logical part of her is angry that he invaded her privacy. She also has the feeling of unease run through her that she's unable to figure out before her husband's pleas interrupt her thoughts.

"Please, tell me what you're thinking..."

"Honestly? I'm not sure," she says, as she shakes her head before continuing, "I feel pissed off, but also relieved and... I don't know."

Now it's his turn to be confused; he can understand why his wife would be pissed off, but what he can't figure out is why she would feel relieved.

Luckily, his confusion doesn't last long as she starts to tearfully explain, "I, um... I never really wanted you to find out about what I tried to do last week. I'm embarrassed that I could be so careless with my own life, but I knew that I had to tell you if we were going to start being honest with each other," she pauses to wipe her face with another tissue and lets out a humorless laugh as she continues, "I even thought about letting you read my journal so I didn't have to tell you myself."

He's not sure how to respond to that. He thinks about her explanation and her reluctance to want to tell him, and it sets him on edge. As softly as he can, he asks, "You'd tell me if you were ever to feel that way again, right?"

She looks up at him and nods her head slowly. The look he has in his eyes reminds her of the same look he had the night of his nightmare. She realizes she never did get to ask him what it was about, and she starts to debate with herself whether or not she should ask, but her curiosity gets the best of her.

"I know this is off subject, but a thought just came to me and it had me wondering...What was that, um... nightmare you had the other night about?"

Even though she really isn't that off subject, he's still surprised that she's asking about it right now. He was hoping she never would. How's he supposed to tell his wife who, just a week ago, tried to kill herself that he had a dream he had found her dead?

When he doesn't answer her right away, she adds, "You don't have to tell me if-"

"No, no...It's fine. It was just the same night I found your journal, and I... I don't know, it must've messed with my head or something... I can't even remember all of it, but the one part that sticks out the most is that I felt what it was really like to lose you," he pauses as images from the dream resurface, and swallows thickly before continuing in a whisper, "I don't ever want to feel that way again."

Looking up at her, he notices she looks confused. After a couple minutes of silence, he asks if she's alright.

Ignoring his question, she looks up at him, confusion still masked on her face, and asks, "Um... You found my journal on Tuesday?"

Confused by her question, he quietly replies, "Yeah..."

"Oh... I just thought- nevermind," she says with a shake of her head, "I don't even know where I'm going with this." Looking at the clock above the mantel, she adds, "It's getting late... we should probably call it a night."

He's taken back by her change in demeanor; he can physically see her closing up on him.

As she starts to stand from the couch, he stands up in front of her, and holds out his hand to help her up. She takes it and stands, thanking him as she starts to walk towards the stairs. Tugging her hand that he's still holding, he stops her from walking any further, bringing her back to him. After she turns around and looks up at him, he quietly pleads with her, "Please don't shut me out..."

Averting her eyes to his chest, she softly says, "I'm not trying to... This has just been a lot to take in for one night," stepping back, and letting go of his hand, she briefly looks back up at him as she says, "I just need some time to process it all."

Sensing she needs her space right now, he watches her as she disappears up the stairs instead of following her up right away. As he walks around the house turning off all of the lights and making sure the doors are locked, he can't help but worry about how fast she had closed up on him. He understands that she needs to think about everything, but if they're going to make this work, she needs to be open with him and tell him what she's feeling. He doesn't want to fall back into that same pattern they had been in before, and he'll try his hardest for that not to happen again.

Making his way into the bedroom, he sees that she's already asleep. The fact that she's back to sleeping as far away from his side of the bed as possible, isn't lost on him, but he ignores it. Climbing into bed next to her, he scoots all the way over to her side of the bed, wrapping his arm around her and bringing her back to his chest. He can feel all the tension leave his body as he holds her like he's wanted to do all night.

Kissing her on her head, and then her shoulder, he whispers that he loves her before laying his head on her pillow and falling fast asleep, too exhausted to worry anymore about what tomorrow will bring.

**A/N: Special thanks goes to my pre reader, Crackylu, and to my beta, Allison Cullen**


	12. Breathe Me

**Chapter Song: Breathe Me by Sia**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

With his eyes still closed, mind and body still mostly asleep, he reaches for his wife, but all he feels are ice cold sheets in place of the warm body he was expecting. Forcing his eyes open and sitting up, he settles his eyes on the clock seeing that it's only seven in the morning. Getting out of bed and throwing on some sleep pants, he tries not to panic as he heads out of their bedroom in search of his wife.

As he walks down the stairs, the panic that he had tried to keep down starts to bubble to the surface as he takes in how quiet the house is. He doesn't understand why he's panicking at first; this isn't the first time he's woken up with his wife not lying beside him, and he never thought twice about it before. He would usually go on with his morning routine and then eventually find her either asleep on the couch, or outside on the back patio reading a book.

But, after checking the garage and feeling the sudden relief as he sees that her car is still there, he instantly realizes the source of his panic; he's terrified that she'll leave him. Even though they both agreed last night that they wanted to save their marriage, it still ended with her pulling away from him. He has no idea what made her shut down the way she did. He just hopes it's not because she's having second thoughts.

Just as he closes the door to the garage, he hears the back patio door slide open and close.

As he makes his way towards her, she looks up from untying her shoes, startled.

"You scared me," she says in a breathy, low tone, bringing her hand up to her chest, "I thought you'd still be asleep."

Stopping as he reaches the entrance to the kitchen, he leans his hip on the counter while crossing his arms loosely and looks down, replying, "Sorry… I woke up and you weren't there…"

Standing upright after taking off both shoes, she glances at him briefly, before explaining, "I woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep, so I decided to go for a run on the beach… I guess I should have left a note." She didn't even think about leaving a note. In the past, she would leave the house to go grocery shopping and he wouldn't even notice she was gone until she came home with a trunk full of groceries.

Pushing off the counter and walking into the kitchen, he shrugs a little and says, "It's okay," trying to play it off like it wasn't that big of a deal, not wanting her to feel guilty for his own insecurities. Changing the subject, he continues, "I'm going to make some coffee. Did you want any? I could make you some breakfast too, if you want…"

"Um, no thanks… I'm actually going to take a shower and maybe go back to bed," she answers him as she walks towards the stairs.

Turning around from the coffee maker, he watches his wife disappear up the stairs for the second time since last night.

Stepping into the shower, she turns her face into the hot stream of water, letting it mix with her tears that start to fall. She's frustrated with herself, hating that she's unable to grasp what she's feeling and why. She wants those two days back that they had spent together, feeling happy. She wants to feel that way again so bad she can taste it, but she doesn't know how to get there again. She knew they wouldn't go straight back to that after their talk, but she never thought that she would feel the need to escape him every time they were in the same room together either.

When she woke up earlier this morning, and realized it wasn't even dawn yet, she tried to snuggle back into the warmth of her husband's body, hoping to find sleep again. But, when the memories from their talk the night before flooded her mind, she found herself wide awake and the usual comfort she felt being in her husband's arms had become suffocating. She thought a run on the beach would help clear her mind and give her the space she needed from him to help sort out the feelings she was having, but all it left her with was more confusion.

As she feels the water start to cool, it brings her out of her thoughts and she starts to rush through washing herself. After drying herself off and changing into her sweats she had brought into the bathroom, she starts to feel the weight of the morning catching up with her and she can't wait to shut her mind off and go back to sleep. Just the thought of climbing into her comfortable bed sends a sense of peace through her.

But, it doesn't last that long.

Hearing the door to the bathroom open, his head shoots up from its resting place in his hands as he sits on the side of the bed, facing the bathroom door. When he had come into the bedroom to get dressed, he could hear the sound of his wife quietly crying while she showered, sending bitter pangs of guilt through his body. His first instinct was to go in there and just hold her, but he thought better of it and got dressed, reminding himself that he was the reason she was in there crying in the first place. He was just going to go back downstairs after he was dressed, figuring she'd just want to be alone, but then he thought that if things were going to change, he had to at least show her that her feelings weren't ignored.

As she walks slowly to the bed, he stands and takes a couple cautious steps towards her, until he's standing in front of her. They stand there for a few awkward moments; him not knowing what to say, and her not wanting him to say anything.

Looking at her closely, he takes in how fragile she looks and just how much his past actions have taken a toll on her. Even though she's not looking at him, he can still see every ounce of the heartache and sadness her eyes hold in them.

Gently, he brings her into him by wrapping his arms around her shoulders, whispering near her ear, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

Her arms stay folded around herself as she nods her head into his chest, letting him know that she knows. His actions these past few days have shown her how sorry he is, and it's also the one thing that she hasn't questioned since last night.

The tears she was trying to hold back start to fall from her eyes as she grows frustrated with herself, wishing she could just wrap her arms around him as he holds her. But, something inside her wants to keep him at arm's length and she doesn't know why.

Pulling back, he looks down at her and wipes the tears from her face, whispering, "We can get through this… I know we can." Her eyes still downcast from his, she nods before he kisses her on the forehead. Stepping back from her, he continues softly, "I know you want to go back to sleep, so I'll leave you alone… I'll just be downstairs if you need anything, okay?"

Nodding her head again, numbly, she doesn't move from her spot until he leaves the room. As soon as she hears the soft click of the door close, she can feel all of the tension leave her body and the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion claims her once again.

Luckily, her mind agrees with her for once, and she falls into a dreamless sleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

As she starts to wake up, she can tell it has to be sometime after noon by the way the sun is shining through their balcony window. Stretching a little and opening her eyes, she stares up at the ceiling as her mind runs in circles, thinking about this morning. It seems like it was days ago rather than only hours before. She still isn't any less confused than she was this morning, which frustrates her, but there is one question that keeps popping up in her mind. She's just not sure if the answer to it really even matters.

Hearing the rumble of hunger in her stomach and realizing she hasn't eaten since last night, she decides it's time to get out of bed and change into some other clothes besides her sweats. As she walks down the stairs she wonders if her husband went golfing with his friends like he usually does every Saturday, but dismisses the thought as soon as she walks into the kitchen and sees him sitting at the island reading the newspaper.

Folding the newspaper closed, he looks up at her as she walks towards the refrigerator, and says, "If you're hungry, I made you a sandwich earlier and put it in the fridge… It's only about a half hour old, so it should still be good."

Opening the refrigerator door, she thanks him softly as she pulls out the plate and sets it on the island beside him. As she's done getting a glass down from the cabinet to fill with ice water, he starts to clean up the sections of newspaper that are scattered across the island to give her more counter space to eat.

Just as he folds the last of the sections, she takes her plate and walks out of the kitchen.

He didn't realize how much it meant to him to have her sitting next to him while she ate until that moment. As he watches her sit outside on the back patio, he thinks of all the times she's had to eat alone because of him, and how much it would have meant to her if he was there. The more and more he thinks of all the ways he's wronged her, the more and more he wonders how she'll ever forgive him. It kills him to think of how much he's taken her for granted, and he can only hope that she'll give him the rest of their lives to make up for it.

Throughout the rest of the day, it plays out just the same; she avoids him, and he gives her the space she needs while still letting her know that he's there.

During dinner, they eat their heated leftovers from last night separately; her choosing to eat alone out on the patio again, while he sits at the table unable to eat much of what's in front of him. She's only sitting about fifteen feet away from him but, to him, it feels like miles.

While he's cleaning up dinner, she brings in her empty bowl from outside and starts helping him with the dishes, both working together in silence. Once they're done, she leaves again without a word and heads back outside.

Only this time, he follows her out.

Sitting in the seat next to her, they both sit silently watching the sun as it fades into the water. A beautiful moment witnessed by husband and wife, tainted by the tension in the air.

It's not until the last shred of sun has disappeared that the silence is broken. With her eyes still focused on the lake, she quietly speaks, "You said you didn't find my journal until Tuesday, but you haven't… _been _with her in weeks. I've just been wondering… what made you end it with her back then if it wasn't because of my journal?"

Her question throws him off for a moment, but then he thinks back to their conversation last night and he can see how she would have thought that he had ended it weeks ago. He hates the answer he's about to give her, but he knows he has to be honest.

Nervously, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out as he leans his elbows on his knees. Glancing at her briefly, he says, "I, um… I actually didn't end it with her until Wednesday."

Confused, she turns her head towards him, and immediately says with a slight shake of her head, "I don't understand…"

Sitting up straighter, he turns a little towards her and regretfully explains, "I'm not trying to sugar coat what I've done, but what I had with her wasn't something I sought out, and it wasn't something that happened every time I was with her… I haven't been with her in weeks, but I didn't end everything with her until Wednesday. "

"Oh," she whispers, sniffling.

After a few anguished minutes of listening to her silently cry, he pleads, "Please say something…"

Wiping tears from her face, she frustratingly replies, "I don't know what to say- I don't even know what to _think._" She runs both of her hands through her hair, gripping it out of frustration before letting it go and taking in a deep breath. "I want to work this out-I really do, but right now…," she says, with a shake of her head, "This is all just too overwhelming for me and I need time to sort everything out in my head. Just… please… give me my space for now, okay?"

Before he gets a chance to reply, she's already out of her chair and walking down the steps towards the beach, needing to escape his presence once again.

**A/N: RECOMMENDATIONS:**

**For something funny and completed, this one is my all time favorite DadWard fic- Bella Swan: Kidnapper by Kambria Rain. Story ID #** **5062719 **

**Also, if you're in the mood for more angst, check out What Hurts the Most by beegurl13. Story ID# 5648126**

**Need something AU? Go read Dead Confederates by goldenmeadow, story ID# 5106610, and Beyond Time by TKegl, story ID# 5755522**

**Now for my thanks: Thank you to Crackylu and BittenIn Ca for prereading, and also, thank you to Allison Cullen for beta'ing! Love you, ladies!**


	13. Whisper

**Chapter song: Whisper by A Fine Frenzy**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight**

After his wife takes off down the steps of their deck towards the beach, he stays outside and watches her until the blowing marsh grass on the dunes takes her out of his view. He knows staying outside waiting for her to come back wouldn't be giving her the space she had asked for, so he reluctantly goes inside. He can't get himself to go any further than the living room. He's nervous about her being out by herself at night, so he sits on the couch and turns on the television, hoping for a distraction until he knows that she is safely back inside the house.

Early Sunday morning, he awakens with a jolt as loud claps of thunder shake the house. With a stiff neck and sore back, he sits up from his slouched position on the couch and turns off the television, completely disoriented and confused as to why he's in the living room and not in their bedroom. But, as his memory catches up with him, and everything about the night before rushes to the forefront of his mind, he stands up from the couch as fast as his sore body will let him, looking around in a panic. He hopes that nothing bad has happened to her, and that he just didn't hear her come in because he was sleeping.

As he approaches the sliding glass door, he notices that it's locked, giving him a sign that she did make it inside, but he won't be able to calm down his panic until he sees her for himself.

Making it up the stairs to their bedroom, he lets out a sigh of relief after quietly opening the door and seeing her asleep in their bed. Walking as silently as he can into the room, he undresses out of his clothes and tries to get into bed as gently as possible so he doesn't wake her.

Turning onto his side, he lies awake watching his wife as she sleeps, wondering how he's ever going to give her the space she needs. He fears that if he gives her too much, they'll just end up back to how they drifted apart in the first place. But, then again, he doesn't want her to feel like the only way she can get her space is by escaping the house whenever he's around. Eventually, his mind gives up on thinking, and gives in to the calming sounds of raindrops hitting the house, lulling him back to sleep.

He wakes up a couple of hours later, alone in bed, to the sun shining and the birds chirping. The weather is completely different from what he had woken up to earlier, but his mood is just the same; confused and a little panicked, not sure as to what the day will bring.

After showering and getting dressed, he makes his way downstairs and sees no one in sight, but hears his son's loud music coming from the garage. After fixing himself a cup of coffee, he makes his way out there, curious as to what his son is up to and how his weekend had gone camping with his friends. Upon entering the garage, he notices his wife's car is missing and in place of it is most of his son's camping equipment laid out across the floor. He still sees no sign of his son, but as he walks further into the garage, he sees him laying out the tent to dry it out on the grass next to the driveway.

Setting his coffee down on the tool bench, he walks over to his son and, as he begins to help him put it together, asks where his mom had gone. After his son tells him she went grocery shopping, their conversation turns into talk about camping and the big storm they all woke up to this morning.

After they finish with the tent, they work quickly cleaning the sand off of everything and putting it away, just in time for her to pull up into the garage. As both of the men bring everything into the house and help put everything away, she starts making everyone sandwiches for lunch.

They eat outside together, enjoying the warm sun and the cool breeze coming off of the lake as their son continues to talk about his weekend, oblivious to the tension between his parents. After lunch, he helps his son take down the tent and put it away before they decide to shoot hoops together in the driveway, as she starts on the laundry. The day, so far, seems like any ordinary Sunday in their household, and it makes him feel a lot less worrisome than he did this morning.

But, as soon as dinner is over and cleaned up, their son heads up to bed early, exhausted from the weekend, leaving husband and wife alone for the first time today. He quickly realizes that their son was the buffer that helped relax the strain between he and his wife as the tension in the air intensifies, making their large kitchen feel inconceivably small.

He starts to busy himself with taking the trash out of the bin, not knowing what to say, or if he should say anything at all, as she grabs the dish rags and heads to the laundry room. This was what he was worried about this morning; He doesn't know what the right thing to do is, and he's afraid that she'll mistake anything he does or doesn't do, as him not caring.

Just as he's about to take the trash outside, she walks passed him without a glance and tells him quietly that she's going to bed.

As the week wears on, he keeps his distance from her like she had asked. He doesn't wake her up before he leaves for work, choosing instead to leave her a note next to the coffee maker, which he also pre-sets for her. Instead of calling her while he's at work, he sends her a text everyday during his lunch just to tell her what time he'll be home and that he loves her, always getting the same '_Okay. Love you, too_' text back from her. He anticipates her response every day, knowing it's the only time he'll hear it from her, considering that she hasn't said more than a few words to him since Saturday.

Every day he makes it home in time for dinner, even though she still chooses to eat alone, with the only exception being if their son is home. And, every night he still holds her while they lay in bed, but only after he knows she's fallen asleep.

By the time the weekend rolls around, he wakes up with her gone once again, only this time she's left a note on his nightstand.

_Went for a run on the beach_

As he lays back down into bed, he rubs his hands harshly over his face and then fists them in his hair as he stares up at the ceiling. Out of the entire time that they've known each other, he's never missed his wife more than he does now. During the first couple of years they dated in college, they would sometimes have to go weeks without seeing each other during the holidays or breaks. They used to talk on the phone during those times they were apart, and he remembers the feeling of missing her so much that he used to wish he could reach through the phone just to touch her. Still, none of that compares to what he's feeling now. Having her so close to him, but still unable to reach her, is far worse than anything he had ever felt back then.

With every day that has passed, she seems to have withdrawn from him even more and he's at a loss on what to do. He wishes she would just yell, scream, and fight with him. Anything is better than the silence, and he's not even thinking about it being better for himself. He can noticeably see how her holding everything inside is affecting her with how lost and warn down she looks. He knows, from past experience, that this is how she deals with things that upset her, and if he doesn't get her to talk about it soon, she'll drive herself crazy trying to figure it out on her own. In the past, it was sometimes like pulling teeth to get her to talk about what was bothering her, but this time it's different. He knows what it is, and he can't do anything about it besides waiting for her to come to him. The ball is in her court, and he feels like his hands are tied.

Unable to lie in bed anymore, he decides to get up and change into some shorts and a t-shirt, hoping to release some of his pent up anxiety by working out in the basement. Before he heads downstairs, he stops by their son's room to see if he wants to join him, but then remembers that he had to work early this morning.

Just as he walks into the kitchen to get something light to eat before he heads into the basement, his wife comes in from her run. He doesn't say anything until she has her shoes off and starts to walk pass the kitchen towards the stairs.

Hoping he doesn't scare her again, he softly says, "Good morning…"

Her steps falter a bit as she hears him, but she doesn't stop or look at him. As she starts to walk up the stairs, she replies, "Morning," in a tired, low tone, filled with no emotion.

Hearing the foreign sound in her voice, and seeing her thinning, tired body slowly climb the stairs makes something in him snap and he moves on impulse, forgetting about anything he had thought about just a few minutes ago.

He walks into their bedroom and stops a couple feet in, just as she's gathering clothes to take with her into the bathroom to change into after her shower. She hears him come in and stops what she's doing momentarily, but then continues on with her task as if she never noticed he came into the room.

Quietly, he says, "I'm worried about you…"

As she closes the drawer to her dresser, a little harder than necessary, she responds in a quiet voice, with a hint of frustration, "I don't have the urge to kill myself if that's what you're worried about."

Not expecting that response from her at all, his mind immediately conjures up the images from his dream that will forever haunt his mind, and his body involuntarily lets out a whoosh of air from his lungs before he stutters a response, "What? No, I mean- I'm just-"

"Look, Edward," interrupting him, letting out an exasperated sigh as she stands at the entrance to their bathroom, staring down at the clothes she has in her arms as she continues in a softer, yet tired tone, "I'm just really tired, and all I want to do right now is take a shower and go back to bed… So, just… don't."

As he watches her close the door to the bathroom, he's never wanted to scream so badly in his entire life.

He's frustrated and angry with himself, wishing he would have just kept his mouth shut and left her alone. He feels like they just took another step back from making anything work between them, which is hard to swallow since it seems like all they've been doing is taking steps back.

Leaving the bedroom, he hastily makes his way into the basement, hoping to take some of his frustration out in the home gym. He starts slow at first, knowing he hasn't touched any of the equipment in at least a couple of weeks, but once he's warmed up he pushes himself to his limits for the next two hours. The only reason he even stopped was because his stomach kept cramping up from not eating before.

After forcing a small snack down, he heads upstairs and quietly enters their bedroom. With his wife still asleep, he quickly gathers his clothes and decides to take his shower in the guest bathroom so he doesn't wake her.

He takes his time showering, letting his tender muscles relax under the spray until the water goes cold. After drying off and getting dressed, he makes his way downstairs and is surprised to see his wife in the kitchen, cleaning up what must have been her lunch. He was going to get himself something to eat, but he hesitates going into the kitchen, unsure if she'll want him in there with her right now after what happened earlier. But, before he can think about it much more, she swiftly grabs her purse and keys from the counter and takes off towards the door that leads to the garage. He watches her walk through the door, wondering where she's going, but afraid to ask. Just before she closes the door behind her, she quietly announces that she's going to the store. He didn't even know she knew he was there.

After eating his lunch, he tries to get the last bit of his work done that he wasn't able to finish the day before, but all he can think about is how he got here.

He's thought many times about what he was feeling when the affair had first started, and the only thing he really remembers is feeling anger towards his wife. He truly believed that she didn't love him anymore. He would come home from work and try to hug her, but she would tense up. At night, when they were in bed together, he would try to hold her and she would move away from him. After a while, he just stopped trying. When he tried to talk to her about whatever he did that made her angry with him, she would mostly have the same reply, "Don't worry about it. It's nothing." Normally, he would have approached her a few more times about it to get her to talk, but work got in the way and whatever it was that was bothering her was forgotten. He recognizes the mistakes he made by letting her problems with him get brushed under the rug. And he also recognizes that her pushing him away was because of that.

The sound of the garage door opening breaks him out of his thoughts, and he slowly gets up out of his chair to see if she needs help bringing in anything. His sore muscles protest with every movement he makes as he walks towards the garage, getting there just as she comes through the door with two bags in her hands.

Stopping just a few feet from the door, he asks, "Is there anything else that needs to be brought in?"

Closing the door behind her, she responds softly, "No," walking passed him towards the basement with her two bags, she continues, "I'll be in the darkroom."

As the weekend comes to a close, he realizes that her darkroom has become her new place to escape, and the only time she comes upstairs is to eat and sleep. Every day, the hours she spends down there grow longer, so that by Tuesday, he's going to bed before her.

Coming home from work on Wednesday, he opens the garage door and sees that his wife's car isn't there. As he enters the house, he sees his son sitting at the island eating, what looks like, leftovers from the night before.

"Hey, dad."

Setting his laptop case on the counter, he says, "Hey… where's your mom?"

With a mouthful of food, his son holds up a note written in his wife's handwriting.

_I'll be downtown at the festival. Leftovers are in the fridge._

After his son swallows, he says, "I went with her this morning to look around while she set up her pictures in the little stations they have up everywhere in the park. That place was nuts. You goin' down there?"

He debates on whether or not he should go, unsure if she wants him there, but then decides that if the shoe was on the other foot, he would still want her there to support him.

"Uh, yeah… I'm just gonna go change out of these clothes first. You wanna go with me?"

His son snorts at him before replying in an amused tone, "Nope. I just got back from there. Like I said… the place is nuts. Good luck finding a parking spot. Oh, and I probably won't be here when you get back. I'm meetin' up with a few friends at the carnival by the river later."

"Alright… just text me or your mom if you decide to stay at someone else's house."

As his son gets up from his seat to put his plate in the sink, he replies, "I always do," before taking off downstairs, most likely to play some video games.

After hurrying up the stairs and quickly changing out of his work clothes, he makes himself a sandwich to eat on the way, knowing the price of food downtown will be insane.

A drive that normally takes about ten minutes turns into a half hour with all of the traffic everywhere and trying to find a parking spot. He starts to panic a little, seeing that it's already 6:30 and he's not sure what time they start closing everything down in the park. Luckily, he finds a space only three blocks away from where his wife should be, and it doesn't take him long to walk there.

After spending about five minutes looking around for her, he finally spots her about 300 feet away. As he starts to walk towards her, he notices how different she looks compared to what he's used to seeing of her these past couple of weeks. She looks relaxed and even happy as she talks to an elderly man as crowds of people walk by her station, observing her photographs of various pictures she took around the beach.

He loses sight of her for a bit as he fights through crowds of people to get to her, but as soon as she comes back into his view, he stops in his tracks as he sees his wife laughing at whatever the elderly man is saying to her. He hasn't seen her laugh like that in so long, that it makes him realize that it's only when he's around that she's unhappy. In an instant, he starts to fight back through the crowds to get away before she sees him, not wanting to ruin this for her.

Finally making it into his car, he pulls back into traffic and starts to head home. During his drive, he thinks about the mistake he was about to make by showing up there with her. If she wanted him to be there, she would have texted him to tell him where she was instead of leaving a note at home. Having that realization hurts, but he knows he deserves it after everything he's done. He just wants her to be happy, and he's not sure he can do that for her anymore. He doesn't want to lose his wife, but he's starting to think she's better off without him.

With that thought, he pulls over to the side of the road just before their street, and throws his car into park. He begins to curse at himself loudly, punching the steering wheel multiple times, as his eyes start to sting with tears that he refuses to let fall.

After a few moments, he rests his head down on the steering wheel, breathing out heavy, shuddering breaths as he tries to calm himself down. It isn't until he hears a car pass by that he attempts to move.

Sitting up, he moves on autopilot, putting the car into drive and slowly driving the rest of the way home.

Sometime after nine, as he watches television in the living room, his wife finally walks through the door. Noticing that she isn't wearing the same smile he saw on her earlier, and that she doesn't look as relaxed, his heart sinks as he watches her walk up the stairs without saying good night.

**A/N: RECOMMENDATIONS:**

**Shattered Perfection by josabbiemommy Story ID# 6329159**

**I had more recs I was going to post, but I'm rushing to get this out…**

**Thanks goes to my awesome pre-reader, Crackylu, and to my wonderful beta, Allison Cullen.**


	14. Listen to Your Heart

**Chapter song: Listen to Your Heart (J Crofts DUB remix) OR the original by Roxette**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

**A/N: One of the teasers I sent out will NOT be in this chapter. It just didn't fit and I felt Bella needed a little more attention. **

**Oh, and PS. This chapter is UNbeta'd.**

For the first week after their talk, she spends it feeling confused and lost, her emotions never staying in one place. Every day that passes repeats itself in a vicious cycle that she has no idea how to stop.

Every morning, during the week, she wakes up to a fresh pot of coffee and a heartfelt note from her husband. Each note he wrote to her holds either a beautiful memory he had of the two of them, or something he says he loves about her. He used to do that for her every so often throughout their years together, but it's been almost a year since he's left her one. As she reads them her heart aches with longing for him and she starts to feel a little guilty as she thinks of how she's been treating him when she can see hard he's been trying. But then she thinks of why he's writing them in the first place and the hurt and doubt she feels get to be too much. She tries to close off those feelings by keeping herself busy, spending hours during the day walking along the beach with her camera, but not even that can keep her mind from wandering.

Thoughts about the affair don't seem to hurt her as much as thoughts about _when_ he had ended it. That was supposed to be _their day_, the day they came back together and reconnected as a husband and wife should, and now it's been forever tainted. The fact that her husband was even _in_ that woman's presence just hours before sends sickening pangs through her heart.

She's been tempted a few times to write all of what she's been feeling in her journal, but she can't seem to get herself to do it. Every time she pulls it out, it just makes her think of when he found it, which makes her question to herself on and off whether or not he was genuine about everything that day. But, then she remembers the way he had made love to her that night; the tenderness he worshiped her with as they moved together and even afterwards, when he gently ran his hands over her body as they kissed like he didn't want the moment to end just as much as she didn't. She knows in her heart that her husband had meant every action he had made that night, but it's her mind that still doubts. She always ends up throwing the offending book back into the far end of her closet where it's been since the night of their talk, wishing he would have just found it sooner.

During the day, it's her heart that seems to speak to her the most when she thinks about her husband. It's at night, when he comes home from work, that her mind does all the talking and she feels like she can't breathe when he's around. Every time he tries to talk to her, or every time he tries to do something nice, she becomes angry that he approaches her like she might break at any moment. It's at these times that she can't help but think he's only doing all of this out of guilt because she tried to kill herself. When she gets his texts messages during the day, her heart responds back that she loves him, but her mind always wonders if he's only doing it to check on her.

Every day she thinks about scheduling an appointment with the marriage counselor, but she keeps putting it off. She feels like she's not ready for that just yet, and part of her fears that she'll never be ready. She even cancelled her appointment earlier in the week with her therapist minutes before she had to leave, feeling sick to her stomach with just the thought of having to voice out loud all of the confessions her husband told her over the weekend. She still kept the appointment for next week hoping that, by then, she'll be able to.

Every night when she goes to bed alone, she has doubts that they will ever be able to make this work. The mistrust and anger she feels towards him is enough to where she can't even talk to him, let alone look at him. By the end of the week, as she's once again lying in bed alone, she starts to feel like he isn't trying hard enough. She doesn't know what else she expects him to do, considering every time he does try a little harder she becomes angry at him.

When the weekend arrives, she wakes up just as dawn approaches curled up around her husband with her head on his bare chest. Even while she sleeps her betrayed heart still knows where it wants to be. But, as she fully starts to awake, the same feelings she had the weekend before surface and her body feels like it's in a tug of war; wanting to stay right where it's at, but at the same time needing to get as far away as possible. Her mind always seems to win the battles when she's around him.

Gently removing herself from his arms, she quietly gets dressed and heads downstairs to go for a run, but not before leaving him a note this time.

While she runs, her thoughts are mostly the same confused thoughts she has had all week, but as she turns around at the south pier to head back, her thoughts take a different path.

She starts to run faster and push herself harder against the sand as the overwhelming feeling to just run away courses through her body. She thinks of how much easier it would be if she were to just give up and move on to a life without the constant battle she's been living through with her husband every day for over two years. The feeling is almost freeing until she thinks about what a life without that would actually mean. The pain she feels when she thinks of living any amount of her life without her husband outweighs any kind of pain she has ever felt throughout her whole life. She becomes frustrated with herself as her thoughts go back to where they were when she first began her run. She wants so badly to forgive him so they can move on together from all of this, but she doesn't know how that could ever happen if she can't get passed all of the hurt and doubt she feels.

Slowing her run down to a walk, she starts to feel tired as the rush of adrenalin she had felt earlier starts to wear off as quickly as it came. Looking around at her surroundings, she sees that the north pier is a lot closer than it should be and quickly realizes that she had somehow passed her house by about a mile. Just the thought of having to walk all the way back when all she wants is the comfort of sleep is all it takes for her to break down. Falling down onto the sand, gasping sobs start to wrack violently through her body as all of the anger, doubt, hurt, and frustration come crashing down on her. It takes her several minutes before she's finally able to calm down and when she does, the feeling of exhaustion is so overwhelming that it takes everything in her to stand back up. After greedily drinking from the bottle of water she brought with her, she heads back, walking the longest mile she's ever walked in her life.

Finally making it into the house, her thoughts are only focused on taking a cool shower and getting into her comfortable bed, that she doesn't even notice her husband in the kitchen until she hears his soft voice greeting her good morning. It's definitely not a good morning, but she greets him back anyway continuing her destination up the stairs towards their bedroom.

As she gathers the clothes she plans to change into after her shower, she hears him come into their bedroom and all she can think is, _Not right now_. Hoping if she just ignores him, he'll let her get on with what she was doing and wait for whatever he has to say until after she gets some much needed sleep. When he doesn't, anger surges through her and she snaps at him, instantly regretting the words as soon as they leave her mouth. She can't blame him for being worried, especially since it was only weeks ago that she had tried to kill herself, and the last thing she ever wanted to do was throw that in his face. Even as angry as she gets at him when the doubt of his true actions creep through her mind, she's still the one who put herself in that position. The selfishness in her actions that day trumped even her husband and his affair, or anything else he has done for that matter.

After cutting him off from whatever he was about to say, and telling him what she should have told him when he first came into the bedroom, she hurries into the bathroom before she says anything else she might regret.

Waking up from her nap, everything from earlier comes rushing through her mind and, just like the weekend before, it all seems like a distant memory to her. The thought of getting out of bed and doing the same thing she'd done every single day this week is enough to make her want to scream. She needs a break from all of this and with the festival coming up, she knows just what to do to keep her mind off of things.

After getting some much needed supplies for her darkroom from the photo supply store downtown, she ends up spending the rest of the weekend holed up in the basement. She knows she's avoiding everything right now, but she can't seem to get herself to care. She's sick of constantly feeling overwhelmed by all of her thoughts, and the difference in the pattern of how she's been spending her days is, so far, refreshing.

On Monday and Tuesday, she keeps herself busy by running around downtown buying new and antique frames to display her photos in, getting new business cards printed off for people to take during the festival, and anything else she thinks she may need. By the time she gets home, she has just enough time to get dinner ready before her husband walks through the door. As soon as she finishes her dinner, she takes off back downstairs into her darkroom, anxious to finish developing the rest of the photos to put into a portfolio in time for the festival.

The morning of the festival, she wakes up early knowing she still has to sign in and secure a spot in the park. After packing herself a cooler full of food and water to bring with her, she writes her son a quick note, since she won't be home for dinner, and leaves it on the counter knowing he'll see it when he wakes up. With how busy her morning has been so far, she still hasn't been able to read the note her husband left for her, so she grabs it and sticks it in her pocket to read later.

As she starts to load everything into her car, she realizes quickly that she needs help unloading once she gets there, unless she wants to take a few trips back and forth to her car. Thankfully, her son is able to help and follows her downtown in his own car so he's not stuck there. With it being so early in the morning, they are able to find close parking near the park, making signing in and unloading a lot easier than she originally thought it would be.

While she sets everything up on the faux wooden walls and tables the festival provided, her son wanders off to look around and even stops to help others unload. He sticks around for most of the day keeping her company, which she takes in every moment of knowing that in just a couple of months she won't have times like this with him anymore.

Around four, she gives her son a hug as he's about to leave and thanks him for helping her out.

Stepping back from the hug, he says, "No problem. Is dad going to meet you down here?"

His question throws her off for a second as she guiltily realizes she never told her husband what she would be doing today. When he had texted her earlier, she had been distracted with everything else going on around her that she had just texted him back with the same response she always gives him, forgetting to mention that she wouldn't be home.

Truthfully, she answers her son, "Probably not. I actually forgot to tell your dad I won't be home, so let him know where I'll be at. I'd call him, but I think he has a class right now." She briefly wonders if her husband will show up here after he gets out of work, and she's not sure how she feels about that right now.

"Then do you need me to come back to help load all this stuff up?"

"No, I'll be fine. You go have fun with your friends. Thanks again for today," she says, gratefully.

After they exchange goodbyes, she feels a little heavy hearted as she watches her son walk through the crowds of people towards his car. She had a good day with him and, so far, a good day all together which has been rare lately. But, luckily, she doesn't have too much time to think about it as a few people walk up to her station to look through her portfolios and ask her questions about her photography, sending her back into her element.

She spends the rest of the afternoon keeping busy and, at the same time, feeling relaxed. Photography has always been something she could lose herself in without the distraction of anything else, and being around people who share that same passion feels almost euphoric. Towards the end of the night, she sees the elderly man whom she had spoken to earlier, holding his wife's hand as they walk through the park. He had told her how he used to be a traveling photographer, documenting wars and other worldly disasters all over the world. He joked about how he was lucky enough to have such good looks that his wife of fifty-five years still stuck by his side throughout all of those long months he was gone. But she can easily see that it's the love they share that has kept them together all these years, and she hopes that it will be the same for her and her husband. Thinking of this reminds her that she still hasn't read the note her husband had left for her this morning, so she pulls it out of her pocket and lets out a small laugh as she reads.

_I would love you even if your hair turned purple._

He had said that to her the night of her thirty-ninth birthday when she was upset that she'd found a few grey hairs while blow drying her hair. She remembers him laughing at her as she cried to him that she wasn't even forty yet before he realized she was serious. He was able to keep a straight face as he brought her face between his hands and said those words to her, but it didn't take long before the corners of his mouth had started twitching. She knew she was being ridiculous, and her husband always knew how to get her to laugh at herself when she was. That day seems like it was a lifetime ago when, really, it hasn't even been three years, making her wonder how everything had fallen apart so quickly.

Snapping out of the memory, she looks around and sees that others are closing down their stations, so she gets to work on packing everything up. Thankfully, she sold eight out of the twelve framed photos she had brought, making it easier to load everything by herself.

On her drive home, she thinks of how her day had gone and how bittersweet she feels about it. The time with her son was great, but she finds herself wishing her husband was there with her too. She still not sure how she would have reacted or felt if he would have shown, but at the same time it still would have meant a lot. She starts to wonder if maybe their son didn't tell him, but she knows that if that were the case her husband would have called her. Then she thinks that maybe he didn't show because her son didn't tell him until it was too late to come down there.

After pulling up into the garage, she doesn't even bother getting anything out of the car tonight and heads straight into the house. Walking through the kitchen from the garage, the note on the counter she had left for her son this morning mocks her; her husband would have seen that as soon as he walked through the door and he still chose not to come. She's not even able to glance towards the living room, where she knows her husband is at, as she walks up the stairs towards their bedroom.

As she gets ready for bed, her mind can't help but race. She's angry at herself for feeling so hurt over her husband not showing up, considering she didn't even tell him herself where she would be. Her therapist had told her that she can't always expect him to read between the lines, but then she thinks that if she were him, she would have showed.

After climbing into bed, she can't seem to shut her mind off as she tries to get some sleep. She tosses and turns for at least a half an hour until she gives up. Getting out of bed, she heads into her closet and grabs her journal, needing to get these thoughts out of her head and write them down.

This time, she doesn't throw it back.

**RECOMMENDATIONS:**

**Total mindfuck oneshot, but so good: The Life Stealer by captainofyourship /s/6578123/1/**

**Something different: She Who Must Be Obeyed by WutheringBites /s/6442081/1/**

**Thank you, Crackylu, for pre-reading this so quickly!**


	15. And Then You

**Chapter song: And Then You by Greg Laswell**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

**Huge A/N at the bottom.. well, huge for me.**

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Sitting in their bed with her back against the headboard and her journal settled onto her raised knees, angry tears fall from her eyes as her pen glides furiously across the pages, purging all of her conflicting thoughts down onto the paper. Her words are evident of the battle she feels within herself and the situation she and her husband have found themselves in.

…_Lost. Angry. Hateful. Love. Longing. Lost. I don't know what to feel anymore. I pull him to me, and then I push him away. He tries to talk to me, and I punish him with my silence. I'm so afraid to let him back in again, and I know that if I look at him that's all it will take…_

She writes about the confusion she feels towards the relationship her husband had with the other woman, and all of the questions that she's been trying to tell herself wouldn't matter as long as he ended it with her. She knows that as long as they go unanswered, she'll always have that lingering doubt that hovers in her mind and they'll never be able to move on from this.

… _I need to know what he meant when he said he used to work with her. Was she part of the board he worked with when they were developing the new department? Does she still work there? Does he still see her, talk to her?..._

She trembles with an immense amount of anger and hate as she thinks about that woman and everything she stands for. She had to have known he was married if she worked with him, and that thought makes her shake with even more rage as her anger burns into the pages.

_...I hate her, and I don't even know her name. I hate her, and I don't even _want_ to know her name. She's faceless, she's nameless. She's nothing to me and, yet, she almost destroyed me. I hate her… _

The anger she feels towards her husband and his infidelity grows stronger as she continues to write, but the love that she feels for him is always there to intercept.

… _I love him, but I sometimes wish I didn't. I feel like I should leave him, but I know I can't live without him. I hate him for that, but I love him too much to leave … _

As she writes about her feelings towards him reading her journal, she still feels upset about when he read it. It's the one thing that keeps her doubting everything he has done since that day and she knows that if she's going to forgive him, she needs to get past it. Her heart knows he's been honest in every action he has made, every note he's written, and every apology he's given her, because that's who he is, and that's the person she has known for over twenty years.

…_I think of the man he's become since he's read my journal and I know in my heart that he's being genuine because he's exactly the man he used to be before everything started to fall apart… _

She thinks of tonight and becomes frustrated with herself as she still feels a little anger towards her husband for not showing. She knows she's being irrational about it, but it still doesn't stop her from feeling that way.

…_I still can't help but feel angry at him for not being there tonight, and I'm angrier with myself for feeling that way. How was he supposed to know I wanted him there when I'm still not sure myself? I know that if that was what I really wanted, I would have remembered to tell him, and I didn't. He didn't show and I didn't expect him to until I was standing there alone watching the couples and families walk by, longing for that again…_

Her writing starts to slow as her eyes become heavy and her hand begins to cramp. She pauses for only a few moments to stretch and rest her hand before she continues writing the last of her thoughts, feeling a bit calmer after getting everything out.

_... I was starting to fear that maybe it was the idea of being alone that was keeping me from just ending this hell and moving on, but now I can see that it's not. It's him and everything about who we used to be, and could still be, that I want and need in my life. I know that if I don't just let go and open up to him soon, we'll either fall back to where this all started, or we'll fall completely apart with no way to repair us. I don't want that and, by him not showing up tonight, I can already see that happening. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't show…_

After closing her journal and setting it aside, she scoots down further into bed and glances at the clock. It's a lot later than she thought it would be and she starts to wonder when her husband will come up to bed. It's not unusual for him to stay up this late, but tonight she finds herself craving his closeness again and she doesn't want to fall asleep until she can feel the warmth of him beside her.

Rolling onto her side, she stares at the clock until she's unable to keep her eyes open any longer. The clock reads 12:04 just before she closes her eyes and succumbs to sleep; completely unaware of the turmoil her husband is going through just downstairs.

Since his wife came home, he's been sitting in the living room staring blankly at the television, having no idea what he's even watching. He can't stop thinking about how much he has failed his wife, making him feel numb with dread as he realizes that a future without her has become more than just a possibility now. He could tell just by the way she looked when she came through the door that he was losing her, and watching her walk up the stairs made him feel that maybe he already has. He swore to himself that he wouldn't let them go back into that dark place they were in before, but he let it happen again and, this time, he doesn't think there's any way out. He knows he will never be able to leave her no matter how much he thinks she's better off without him, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't go if she told him to.

He tries to think of anything he could have done differently these past two weeks to keep them from coming back to this place, but he still feels at a loss. He's not sure if he should have tried harder by ignoring her need for space, or if maybe he should have tried less and just kept his complete distance from her like she had asked. Then he wonders if it would have mattered either way, and if this has just been a losing battle he's been fighting all along, even though she'd told him she wanted to work things out. He's been holding onto those words with a vice-like grip ever since she'd said them, but that's never stopped his fear that she could change her mind, and he can't blame her if she has.

He's brought out of his stupor as his phone starts to buzz loudly across the coffee table, alerting him that he has a new text message, most likely from his son. Leaning forward, he grabs the phone and sees that his assumption was right as he reads the text from him.

_Crashing at Jared's. Be home in the morning. _

After replying back an 'okay', he checks the time and sees that it's after midnight. Knowing he has an early day tomorrow, he shuts off the television and locks up the house before heading to bed.

When he enters the bedroom, he sees his wife curled up around her pillow fast asleep with her bedside lamp still on. After undressing, he walks over to her side of the bed to shut the lamp off but instead, he's stunned into place. There, sitting beside her lamp with a pen sticking out between its pages, is her journal. He didn't even know she still had it, assuming she had gotten rid of it as soon as he told her he'd read it. Tearing his eyes away from it, he glances down at his wife and almost wishes he hadn't. The vast contrast from when he saw her at the park compared to now, looking at her swollen, closed eyes and the silver lines streaked on her face from where her tears had dried, cements any thoughts he'd had earlier about losing her. The crushing pain of resolve rushes through his body as he realizes that as much as he wants to hold onto his marriage with everything he has, they can't keep living like this and he's going to have to step in soon. He has a feeling that once he does, nothing will turn out in his favor, but at least she'll be able to move on and not have to cry herself to sleep every night because of him.

With one last look at her journal, having no desire to read what's in it, he turns the lamp off and makes his way to his side of the bed. After pulling back the covers, he gets into bed as gently as he can so he doesn't wake her but, before he can lay all the way down, he hears her take in a deep breath and move around. He stills only for a moment before laying the rest of the way down into bed, knowing she's about to seek him out in her sleep. She's been doing this for the past few nights now and each time he has felt her come into his arms, it made him feel hope that they could get through this together. But, now, as he brings his arms around her, all he feels is the pain in his heart as he realizes that this could be one of the last times he holds her like this. A couple of tears trickle out from his closed eyes as that thought runs through his mind, but he holds back anymore that want to fall and pulls her closer into him, kissing the top of her head before falling into a restless sleep.

Hearing the alarm go off, he reaches back with the arm that was around his wife and hits the snooze button before snuggling back around her. Even though he's gotten the same amount of sleep he would have had any other night, he still feels as though he had just fallen asleep. He feels drained and wishes he could spend the rest of the day curled around his wife in bed instead of having to go to work, but he knows that even if he didn't have to go, that option wouldn't be possible right now.

After what seems like seconds later, his alarm goes off again and he peels himself away from his wife, knowing he has to get up if he wants to make it to work on time. He goes through his morning routine with mostly the same thoughts he had last night, but only this time he has some conclusions on where to go from here. He knows he can't wait another forty-eight hours for the weekend to start before he talks with his wife so, with it being only Thursday, he plans to take tomorrow off. He's not worried about canceling any of his classes, considering there's only two weeks left in the semester and they'd only be reviewing what they've learned these past few weeks. He wishes he could take today off too, but he knows that that's not feasible with the amount of time he has to prepare for the time off.

Walking into the kitchen to start his other morning routine, he eats a quick breakfast before pre-setting the coffee maker and taking the memo-pad and pen out of the drawer to write a note to his wife. He doesn't even have to think about what he wants to write to her as he quickly jots down the one thing that has been on his mind since the night before. After folding the note and setting it under her favorite coffee mug, where he leaves it every morning, he grabs everything he needs for work and heads out to his car.

She awakes to the muffled sound of her phone ringing somewhere in her bedroom and quickly jumps out of the bed to look for it, unable to remember where she had put it the night before. She's not completely coherent yet as she stumbles around the room before finally finding it in the shorts she had worn yesterday. Her phone stops ringing just before she has a chance to answer it, so she checks the call log and sees that it was her therapist's office calling, most likely reminding her of the appointment she has scheduled for tomorrow morning.

After checking her voicemail and confirming that it was just a reminder call, she notices the time and sees that it's already after ten in the morning. She can't believe that she had slept that long throughout the night without awakening once, and she knows it has everything to do with writing in her journal the night before. She doesn't feel a huge sense of relief or even happy that she's finally gotten to this point, just content and ready to start forgiving. She's still not looking forward to talking about everything with her therapist tomorrow, but she's hoping that it will help her better prepare for when she and her husband finally talk.

Making her way downstairs, she heads into the kitchen to plug in her phone and get herself some much needed caffeine. While sitting at the island, she sips on her coffee as she unfolds the note her husband had left her and begins to read, noticing it's different from any of the other notes he has left her.

_Your laugh is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. _

_I miss it. _

_I miss you._

As she wipes her tears away, she gets up from her seat and goes out into the garage to grab her purse she had left in the car the night before. When she comes back inside, she sets it on the counter and digs out the business card her therapist had given her weeks ago. After making the appointment with the marriage counselor, she finishes her coffee while thinking about what she had just done. Just the idea of seeing the counselor scares her, fearing that it could be what completely breaks them, but she knows the likelihood of that happening is far greater if they don't.

Once she's finished with her second cup of coffee, she heads upstairs to get dressed for the day, not bothering with a shower just yet. She still has to unload everything from the car and clean out the cooler that she hadn't bothered with the night before. Before she makes her way back downstairs, she remembers that she still hasn't taken her medication for the day and walks over to her nightstand where she keeps it in the drawer. Just as she approaches it, she notices that she had left her journal out and becomes frozen with the thought that her husband may have read it. Even with as much hurt as he has caused her, the last thing she would ever want to do is hurt him in return by him reading the words of hate she had written towards him out of anger. If he did read it, not even the fact that he did it without her permission would make her believe that he deserves to read those words about him from his wife.

She sits on the bed and, without taking her eyes off of the journal, tries to remember if that's how she had left it before she'd fallen asleep last night. But, from how tired she was when she had set it down, her memory is vague on any details. She thinks about the note he left her this morning, and can't decide if it's something he still would have written if he had seen her journal.

Unable to think about it any longer, she opens the drawer and takes out the medication she needs for the day and tosses it back in, along with her journal.

As she exits her bedroom, her son rushes past her towards his room, almost knocking her over.

"Sorry, mom! I'm late for work," he says hurriedly, as he closes the door behind him.

She had thought that's where he already was when she didn't see him this morning, which makes her ask through his door where he'd been.

After he swiftly opens the door, fully dressed in his work clothes, he starts to walk quickly towards the stairs as he tells her that he had stayed the night at his friend's and that he had let his dad know about it the night before.

She follows him down the stairs to give him a quick goodbye and, as she watches him leave, the only thought on her mind is that she's just glad that he didn't come home earlier to see her crying in the kitchen. She doesn't ever want her son to know about the problems that she and her husband are having. She fears that if he ever found out, it would not only hurt the good relationship he has with his father, but it would also crush him. They've always been really close and she would never want their problems to interfere with the bond that they share.

She spends the rest of the day keeping busy by cleaning the house, something she realizes she's been slacking on lately with the amount of dusting she has had to do, so that, by the time she's done, she barely has enough time to shower before getting started on dinner. Her husband had texted her earlier, letting her know that he'd be home around six and it's already 5:30.

As she cooks dinner, she starts to feel nervous as the time nears six o'clock. With her new revelation of sorts, it's left her feeling confused on how she should act around him until they have their talk. She doesn't want to blow him off like she's been doing, but she also doesn't want to give him the impression that everything's forgotten. Taking in a deep breath, and trying not to over-think it, she continues on with making dinner just as she hears the garage door opening.

Watching the garage door closing behind him from the rear-view mirror, he's hesitant to go inside the house right away. An illogical sense of guilt starts to overcome him as he thinks about walking through the door and watching his wife, who's most likely in the kitchen cooking him dinner, tense up at just the mere presence of him. It makes him even more impatient to have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her, but tonight doesn't seem like an option considering they'll be needing more than just a couple of hours to talk about everything.

Stepping out of the car, he grabs his things and heads on into the house and, just as he thought, his wife is in the kitchen cooking dinner and tenses as soon as he closes the door behind him.

Timidly walking the rest of the way into the kitchen, he greets her quietly, "Hey…"

As she stirs whatever she has in the pot, she replies, "Hey… I started on dinner a little a late, so it'll be about another twenty minutes before it's done."

He's a little shocked at the amount of words she had just spoken to him since she hasn't said more than a few in almost two weeks, causing him to pause for a moment before he can reply.

"That's okay… I have some work I need to finish anyway, so I'll just be in my office."

A twinge of sadness runs through her when she hears him say that, and all she can do is nod in response. For the past two weeks, he has at least asked her if she needed help with anything before he went off to watch television before dinner. But today, it seems, he's choosing to hide in his office like he's been doing for the past two years.

Leaving the door slightly open, he sits behind his desk with his laptop out as he finishes preparing for his day off by posting the announcement on the University's website forums. After posting it in both the student's and staff's forums, he writes a quick email to a student to reschedule the office hour they had scheduled for tomorrow. Once he's finished, he sits back in his chair, having nothing else to do, and turns on the digital picture frame his wife had given to him for his birthday a couple years back.

He watches the slideshow of pictures with a bittersweet sadness as moments from a happier time move across the screen; Family holidays, vacations… their son's basketball and baseball games… there are even a few from the surprise trip to Niagara Falls he had taken his wife on for their fifteenth wedding anniversary. She had always wanted to go there to see the falls, and even though she had spent most of the time behind her camera, they still had a great time. He's just hoping she'll give him the chance to do something like that for her again.

He's interrupted from his trip down memory lane when his wife softly knocks on the door and tells him that dinner's ready.

Just as he thinks he's about to eat dinner alone again, their son walks through the door and they end up taking their meals outside to eat as a family.

Their son starts the conversation off by talking about how unreasonable his boss was being towards him when he showed up for work twenty minutes late and how he had to stay an extra hour after work because they got real busy from the festival crowd. In the middle of his rant, though, he stops himself ,and with a look of confusion, asks his mom why she isn't at the festival.

After swallowing her food and taking a sip of her water, she answers him, "Today the park is reserved for all of the local middle school and high school kids' artwork. And tomorrow they're having arts and crafts all day for the smaller kids in the neighborhood. I thought about helping out with that, but I missed the sign up."

"Bet you're happy 'bout that dad!" their son says with a laugh, then continues in the same playful tone, "How many old ladies hit on you last night? I think I got my cheeks pinched at least four times while I was sittin' with mom."

Glancing up at his wife, who's sitting across from him, he sees that she's looking down at her plate with her fork stilled in her vegetables.

Looking back down at his food, he pushes it around with his fork as he responds quietly, "I, uh, didn't go."

He's hoping his son will just leave it alone, but he doesn't.

"What? You left before I did."

Before taking a bite of his food, with his eyes still on his plate, he says, "I couldn't find any parking, so I came back home."

"Told ya it was crazy down there," his son says with a shake of his head before eating the last bite of his food, completely unaware to how uncomfortable the atmosphere had just become.

He looks up at his wife as sees that's she's now sitting back in her chair, arms folded to her chest, with her head turned to the side looking out towards the lake.

She can feel his eyes on her, but she won't even allow herself to look at him from of the corner of her eye. She can tell that he's lying, and she hates that the first thought that comes to mind is wondering if he was with _her_. She's so lost in thought that she's startled when her son kisses her on the top of her head and tells her goodbye before letting them know he'll be home late.

After their son leaves, he starts to gather the dishes to bring them inside while taking quick glances at his wife's still-form. He has a feeling he knows exactly what she's thinking, and the guilt he feels for putting that doubt in her mind is enough to leave him almost breathless.

The last thing he wants is for his wife to believe for the rest of the night that he was with someone else, if that's what she's thinking. He's so tired of seeing her hurt and he knows that he needs to tell her the truth about where he was during the festival. He didn't want to have to do this tonight, but there's no way it can wait until tomorrow.

.

.

.

**RECOMMENDATIONS:**

**Avalanche by Rose Masen Cullen /s/6018011/1/**

**If This is Love by owenic /s/7045398/1/ **

**Need a break from angst? You HAVE to go read Meet the Masen's by FictionFreak95, although I'm sure every single one of you is already reading it but I just thought I would stress it some more.. because.. well, it's fucking awesome. Go read it again. /s/6987169/1/**

**Thank you Crackylu, Beegirl13, and Rose Masen Cullen for helping out with this super tough chapter and Allison Cullen for beta'ing!**

**HUGE thanks to Jo aka FictionFreak95 for writing an unbelievably beautiful review for The Journal on The Lemonade Stand. . And, thanks to all that voted!**

**Also, I forgot on the last update to thank Mrs. White for her awesomely wonderful review for The Journal on the PIC FF Corner *facepalm*picffcornerDOTblogspotDOTcom / 2011 / 05 / mrs-white-talks-about-journal-with-msemDOThtml **

**(Both links to these awesome blogs are on my FF profile if you're not feeling up to removing spaces and replacing DOTs)**


	16. When You Find Me

**Chapter song: When You Find Me by Joshua Radin ft. Maria Taylor**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

She closes her eyes and rests her head on the back of her chair as she feels the rush of a cool breeze hit her face from another summer storm making its way across the lake. She knows that she needs to go inside soon. The rolls of thunder get louder and the storm reaches the shore, but the dive her mood has taken keeps her in place.

She feels almost defeated but at the same time angry by the fact that right when she started trusting that his actions have been true and she's ready to start to forgive, it only took that one brief hesitation in her husband's voice to send all of that into doubt again. She's trying really hard not to believe that her husband was lying and that maybe she had just imagined it, but she knows she hasn't. She tries to think of any other reason he would have had to lie, but the only one she can come up with is that he was with someone else.

She knows she'll never find out the truth unless she asks, but right now she's too angry to be in his presence. The last thing she wants to do is approach her husband accusingly, knowing that, from what her therapist had advised, it wouldn't help.

She glances over at her husband through the window and sees that he's still in the kitchen cleaning up dinner, and is surprised at the urge she has to go in there and start breaking every dish in their kitchen while she demands answers she knows will only lead to more heartbreak. Needing an outlet to calm down her anger, she wishes she could take a walk down the beach, but with the lightning that has started to flash across the darkening skies, that's not an option.

Taking in a deep breath, she closes her eyes again and tries to relax before she makes a move to go inside, but as she feels the first of many raindrops that are sure to fall hit her face, she knows her time is up.

Looking over at his wife as he rinses the last of the dishes to put them into the dishwasher, he sees her closing up the patio umbrella and his heart immediately begins to race even more than it has been since he brought the dishes in from outside. If it wasn't for their son still being in the house to change his clothes before he left, he would have just told his wife the truth before he even started to clean up the kitchen, but after his son finally left, the moment of impulse to tell her right away had left too. In just the few short minutes that he waited for their son to leave, his mind had time to think about what the aftermath could be once he talks with his wife.

One of his biggest fears is that she won't believe him when he tells her where he was last night, and having no proof to back himself up, he doesn't know what he could do or say to make her not doubt him. Another fear is that instead of spending the day tomorrow trying to fix things with his wife, he'll be spending it packing, and it pains him to think that last night really was the last time he got to hold her in his arms.

Hearing the sliding glass door open and close snaps him out of his thoughts and he realizes he's been standing at the sink, with the water still on, staring at nothing but his own distorted reflection in the window. Shutting the water off, he hears her footstep grow closer, but he still doesn't move from his frozen stance at the sink. He sees her reflection through the window start to walk past the kitchen towards the stairs, and he knows that he needs to say something now or he'll just spend the rest of the night regretting that he hadn't.

Before she reaches the stairs, he says in a low tone, but loud enough for her to hear over the rain, "I was there last night… at the festival."

When she hears him start to speak, she speeds up her walk a little bit to the stairs, not wanting to listen to anything he has to say right now, but as his words start to register in her mind, her walk slows until she comes to a halt before she reaches the stairway.

When he sees that she stops, he waits to see if she'll say anything, but when she doesn't, he continues on in the same low tone, "I came there because I wanted to be there for you. I'm still not sure what I was expecting to see when I got there and saw you, but when I did…," with a slight shake of his head, he pauses for a moment, leaning his hands on either side of the sink and closing his eyes as he remembers the way she looked when she laughed, still wishing he could have heard it.

During his pause, she turns slightly towards him as she waits for him to continue, not quite understanding where he's going with this.

Opening his eyes again, he looks back up at her reflection, which has become easier to see now that the skies have darkened even more outside, "You just looked so happy and unguarded… different, yet familiar. It was a look that I haven't seen on you in _years,_" he bows his head back down and grips onto the counter as he starts to choke on his words. Taking in a deep breath, he tries to continue when he thinks he has his emotions under control, but his voice still comes out unsteadily, "It was that moment that made me realize you're only unhappy when I'm around. I knew that if you would have seen that I was there, it would have just ruined your night, so I left… When you came home, and you looked as though it was the last place you wanted to be, it made me see even more how much I have failed you as a husband, and that hurt- _still hurts_ to know that I don't know how or even _if_ I can make my wife happy anymore…that's all I want for you…," he trails off in a hoarse, trembling voice as he scrunches his eyes shut trying to keep his tears from spilling over.

She's shocked into silence, scared to even move or talk, having never heard her husband sound so broken before. All of the anger and assumptions she'd had towards him earlier left as soon as she heard the first tremble in his voice and she's now angry at herself for letting it get this far.

Turning around to face her, he sees that she has silent tears streaming quickly down her face almost as fast as the rain that falls outside, and her arms are wrapped protectively around her torso as if she's in pain. At this point, he's not even thinking about whether she believes him or not. He just wants to see her happy again like he had the night before, and the pain in his chest when he realizes what he might have to do to get her there is almost crippling.

Slowly, he walks across the kitchen, and stops about a foot in front of her. She has her head down and her eyes closed. She has avoided eye contact with him for weeks, but tonight he needs to see her eyes. He needs her to see his. He needs more than just verbal communication with what he's about to say.

"Bella..." She still won't look at him, too afraid of what she'll find if she does.

"Bella… _Please look at me_," he says, pleadingly, as he places his hands on either side of her face.

She finally looks up at him and notices his eyes are red rimmed and glassy. She tries to look away, but his last plea keeps her eyes on him. She doesn't want to see him like this. She had only seen him close to tears once, and that was when their son was born. But those were different tears.

These tears… these are not ones she ever thought she would see. These tears are not ones she would ever _want_ to see. Her husband has always been the strong one, always the rock of the family, never one to show his emotions. To see him breaking down like this is too much.

He brings his face closer to hers with trembling hands until their foreheads are touching. When tears start to fall from his eyes, she closes hers, trying to hold back her sobs but they escape anyway.

"I love you so much… _so much…_,"he croaks out, "I am _so_ sorry... I can't change the past. I wish that I could-_God, I wish I could,_ but I can't. Just tell me what to do and I'll do anything, _anything _to see you happy again," he says with as much conviction as he can. Pulling his face away from hers, he keeps his hands on both sides of her face as his thumbs try to brush away the never ending tears that fall from her eyes. He doesn't even care about his own that fall as he continues, "I'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means…,"he pauses, swallowing thickly, "Even if it means me leaving, I'll do it for you… As much as it would kill me to lose you, and as much as I want to do anything I can to fix us and not give up, if us not being together anymore is what you need to be happy again, I'll go… Just _please_…please tell me what to do."

Unable to answer him with words, she crashes her body into his, causing him to let go of the gentle hold he'd had on her face, and wraps her arms around his waist as sobs rack freely through her body. The image of her husband's tears falling from his eyes and the foreign sound of desperation he'd had in his voice play on repeat in her mind and she holds onto him even tighter. She had feared earlier in the day that he had read her last journal entry and, now, she finds herself wishing he had; He would have known that she could never live without him.

As his wife falls apart in his arms, the guilt, shame, and regret hit him hard and he can't help but let out a few sobs of his own as he moves one of his hands up to cradle the back of her head, leaving the other wrapped tightly around her. He's not sure if this is her way of saying goodbye or if she's trying to tell him to stay but either way, he feels it's still a step forward to getting her where she needs to be.

He tries to sooth her by rubbing his hand up and down her back and when her sobs start to subside, he lifts his head from its resting spot on the top of hers allowing her to pull back a little, but only enough to rest her forehead comfortably in the center of his chest. When her breathing starts to slow down, he uses the hand that was cradling her head to move her hair away from the side of her face, whispering, "Talk to me…"

Shaking her head, with her forehead still on his chest, she fists the back of his dress shirt in her hands as she says brokenly, "I have never wanted you to leave… and I hate that I made you feel like you should," and then adds in a whisper, "I'd never be happy without you…"

The relief he feels knowing that she doesn't want him to leave brings back the hope that he had lost over the last couple of days. It still doesn't help the confusion he still feels on where to go from here and he's hoping that his wife is ready to start opening up to him or they'll never be able to survive. Softly, he kisses the top of her head and says gently, "We can't keep living like this, Bella… You need to talk to me."

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, she lets go of the hold she has from around his waist and looks up at him, bringing both of her hands up to his face. Gently, she wipes the wetness from his cheeks as she locks her eyes with his for the first time in weeks, whispering, "I know…"

**.**

**.**

**RECOMMENDATIONS:**

**There is a Light by BellaDonnaCullen: /s/7015642/1/ - I cannot express enough how much I absolutely LOVE this story and the author! **

**Thanks goes to my pre-reader, Crackylu and my beta, Allison Cullen.**


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